Featured Attraction
by Predec2
Summary: Brian reluctantly accompanies his son to the Pennsylvania State Fair, but is he as hesitant to go as he seems?  Brian/Justin with Gus - mainly humor/fluff *STORY IS NOW COMPLETE*
1. Sheep and Pigs and Cows, Oh My!

_Into so much angst some humor must fall, so hence this story - it should be a relatively short one - hope you enjoy it!:)_

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><p><em>Brian discovers a whole new world away from Liberty Avenue, but some things still remain the same...<em>

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><p><em>Brian's POV – 9:15 a.m.<em>

I glanced up through my Gucci shades at the giant, white-hot orb already shining down relentlessly upon us and winced; even attired in form-fitting, khaki shorts and a sleeveless, dark-brown wifebeater and sandals, the dazzling sunlight above, along with the blacktop under my feet, was serving to roast my entire body almost from the inside out. I held my quickly-warming plastic bottle of water up against my forehead, seeking some minor relief from the stifling heat, but it was little use. The weatherman had said the high for today would hit somewhere in the low 90's, but as I stood there with my son's hand in mine on the hard pavement and looked out onto the teeming mass of fair goers, I knew it was going to likely be at least 5 or 10 degrees hotter than that before the day was over.

"Daddy?"

I looked down at my son squinting up at me and chided myself for letting him forget his sunglasses at home; I would have to make a pit stop somewhere – if they even _had _one here – to pick up him some type of protective eyewear, even it if wasn't the best. It would be better than him going blind at an early age; I could only imagine, though, just what sort of eyewear constituted "fashionable" at this sort of place...

Returning my attention to my son, I asked, "Yeah, Buddy?"

"What are we going to do first?" He was bouncing lightly back and forth on his feet and his eyes were lit up in that way that told me he was barely restraining his excitement over being at his first state fair. I huffed silently to myself – _MY first time, too_… _How did I let myself get talked into this?_ I wondered for the umpteenth time. As I looked into the ecstatic face of my son, though – his eyes dancing with eagerness and amazement over all the sights, sounds and smells invading our senses at once – I knew the answer why.

I was about to ask him what _he_ wanted to do first when a large, heavyset man with balding hair and a shirt that said _Fat People are Hard to Kidnap_ bumped into me and I almost fell.

"Fu… Jerk!" I hissed as the man quickly scurried away with his equally height-challenged breeder and their brood lumbering along beside them, soon getting swallowed up in the swarming crowd.

I glared after him for a few seconds before I took a deep breath to calm myself and looked down into my son's innocent face. I felt my blood pressure returning a little more to normal as my face relaxed and I gently smiled at him in reassurance. "What do YOU want to do first, Sonny Boy?" I asked him as I bent down to be more face to face with him. My heart melted as I observed the thoughtful look on his face as he tried to formulate his thoughts properly. Gus was becoming more proficient at expressing himself lately – having just celebrated his sixth birthday recently – but at times he still struggled to make the words come out right.

I saw a light bulb go off in his head as his face lit up with his answer and he beamed back at me excitedly, his eyes sparkling. "I want to go see the animals first, Daddy!"

I groaned inwardly as I forced myself not to react visibly; that was the _last _place I wanted to go – inside a smelly, stinky, stifling metal building loaded with barnyard animals that were enclosed in 6 X 6 pens surrounded by equally smelly, stinky straw and smelly, stinky people. I had never really had any up close and personal encounters with domestic beasts – other than an occasional juicy prime rib at the four-star steakhouse downtown – and the only horny animals I ever had had any interest in were the tricks I occasionally indulged in from time to time at Babylon, the baths, or Woody's. To be within spitting distance of one of those monstrosities, though? Just the thought made me glad that I hadn't ingested any of the typically disgusting crap you normally found at a state fair midway, because if I had I would be promptly puking it back up right now.

I let out a breath to collect my thoughts and bide me some time. "Are you sure, Gus? It's bound to be awfully hot in those buildings. We could do something outside instead where it would be cooler. Maybe play some games or ride some rides?" I asked hopefully.

To my consternation, however, and despite plastering my most award-winning advertising smile on him, he shook his head. "No, Daddy… I want to see the horses and pigs and goats. Please?" He batted his long eyelashes and bit his lip in that adoring look that always made me cave in and I knew immediately that I was a goner.

"Okay, Sonny Boy," I said, sighing. "Let's go check out the animals then." My son let out a triumphant whoop as I rose to my feet and began to search the sign posts nearby directing fairgoers to the different sections of the grounds. Noting a sign that said _animal exhibits_, I began to gently tug my son toward the indicated area. "This way," I told him as we began to slowly weave our way through the ever-increasing crowd.

"I can't see, Daddy!" Gus protested to me. Throwing the almost empty bottle of water into a nearby waste can, I scooped my son up onto my shoulders as he giggled at my abrupt decision and held onto my hands to steady himself.

"I can see _everything_ now!" he exclaimed as I smirked. The sights of Pennsylvania's State Fair might be terribly exciting to a six-year-old boy, but nothing _I _could see bordered on even being remotely newsworthy. And hot guys? Forget it - the only 'hot' guys I saw were the ones with profusely-sweating armpits. _Disgusting. _ I sighed again, wondering how I had gotten myself into this predicament. The Munchers would have been so much better at performing this function, but they had chosen this week to leave town and attend some Bar Mitzvah for one of Mel's great-nephews and I had already agreed in a weak moment to watch Gus. Only when I had already agreed to do it a few weeks ago, I had no idea it was the same week as the state fair that Gus had apparently been chattering nonstop about since he first saw it advertised on television, and neither woman for some odd reason neglected to warn me ahead of time. "Damn Mel," I muttered, immediately blaming HER for my predicament because frankly, she normally WAS responsible.

"What did you say, Daddy?" Gus asked me curiously from his lofty perch above me; in the din of the crowd, normal, conversational-level speaking was almost impossible. In this case, that was probably a good thing. "I said _caramel_. I think we need to take your mommies back some caramels from the fair." I rolled my eyes, thinking what Mel really needed was some caramels all right – laced with arsenic, only I don't think they sold that variety here.

"Yeah!" Gus told me agreeably. "We'll have lots of time to find things to eat before we leave." His voice left no doubt that that was precisely one of the goals he had in mind, _another _reason why I knew this was not going to be a wonderful memory for me. The place was swarming with carb-laden and fat-clogging foods of all kinds. If I was honest with myself, though, any occasion where I could spend extended time alone with my son was a good memory, even it if WAS in a place where Fried Kool-Aid was the gourmet delicacy being advertised on a nearby sandwich board.

I frowned as I did a double take; _Fried KOOL-AID? _I detested the normally _liquid_, much-too-syrupy-sweet version – just the notion of it being turned into some sort of fried version made my stomach churn. How could you FRY Kool-Aid? And more importantly, why would you WANT to? Shaking my head a little to force the idea out of my head, I concentrated instead on dodging all the fairgoers as we slowly made our way toward the animal exhibits.

As we approached several metal outbuildings with various pictures of different 4-H animals displayed above each open-door entrance, I hated to ask but I did anyway. _This is for your son, this is for your son,_ I kept repeating silently as I primed myself for courage. Finally, I took a deep breath as we came to a small patch of semi-privacy near some wooden benches surrounding a large maple tree and, craning my neck upward toward my son, I uttered the words I never thought I would ever say, "Which animals do you want to see first, Sonny Boy?"

I watched as Gus lifted his hand and pointed toward a building to our right located about 25 feet away. "That one, Daddy!" he said eagerly. "I want to see the sheep first!"

_Why not_? I asked myself – one dirty, stinky, filthy animal was just like every _other _one. "Okay," I responded half-heartedly; I had meant for it to come out a little more positive-sounding, but it was hard to get excited about seeing Little Bo Peep's flock. Gently, I grabbed my son under his armpits and carefully lifted him down from his perch to stand beside me. Taking his hand firmly but not too tightly, I began to reluctantly walk toward the sheep building, somehow thinking that I knew now how they felt when they were being led to the slaughterhouse, or at the very least toward a sheep shearing convention.

As we neared the open entrance way, I could see several fair goers already shuffling slowly by pens that were set up on either side of the center aisle; just as I thought, the floor was made of cement, but was already strewn with dirt from hundreds of footsteps, straw, and what looked suspiciously like sheep shit here and there that no one had bothered to sweep up. Unable to avoid wrinkling my nose at both the sights and smells assaulting my delicate sense of decorum, Gus began to pull urgently on my hand, directly toward the first pen on the right where the biggest damn sheep I had ever seen was standing next to the middle aisle, his beady little black eyes practically boring into mine as we neared him. The off-white, curly-haired animal had to have been imbibing in way too much sheep chow by the looks of him, if there _was_ such a thing; either that or he was in desperate need of a good haircut.

"Look at him, Daddy!" Gus cried out in delight as he pulled me toward the giant mutant beast. I eyed the, _what do they call the male_? _Ram_ – yeah, I eyed the ram warily as Gus boldly continued to tug me ever closer, apparently unafraid of what was staring back at him.

"That's close enough, Gus," I sternly told my son as I narrowed my eyes and stared back at _Ram-bo_. "He might bite," I warned him.

"No, he wouldn't," Gus cooed to the large, shaggy creature, who continued to stare at me as if I were his next meal; after all, I had seen that hungry look in horny males before. "You're a nice sheep, aren't you?" He purred. He tried to break loose from my hold on him but I held him fast in my grasp. "Dad-dy," Gus whined as he pulled on my hand in an effort to break free.

"Nice and easy, Sonny Boy," I urged him as I leaned down and wrapped my hands around my son's waist. Slowly the two of us inched toward the ram, which continued to just stand there motionless, all but for an occasional blink of his tiny, probing little eyes. "Shh," I whispered in my son's ear. "Don't want to spook him." Ever so slowly, the two of us crept closer, Gus's eyes getting big as saucers as we neared the sheep while I stared the ram down as if to say, _You touch one hair on my son's head and you're going to be my next pair of gloves.._. Finally, we were within inches of the smelly animal; I inadvertently inhaled a breath and got a good whiff of the animal's scent as I scrunched up my face as if I had just eaten a fried pickle and sneezed.

"Can I pet him, Daddy?" Gus asked me with fascination, his face all aglow with wonder.

I couldn't help snorting as I held onto my son. This furry 'thing' that remotely resembled Medusa on a bad-hair day was the _last _thing I would want to 'pet.' But my son seemed to relish in the idea. "Okay," I finally agreed. "But just hold your hand up over his head to pet him – away from his teeth. And go slow – if he makes any sudden moves, we need to back away."

Gus bit his lip in concentration as he slowly reached his hand over the low-lying temporary fencing and timidly raised it above the sheep's head. I jumped back, along with my son, as the animal suddenly twitched his head just as Gus was about to pet him and turned away from us, emitting a soft bleating sound as he walked away toward the back of the pen to my great relief and my son's great disappointment.

"Humphf," Gus pouted. "I didn't get to pet him, Daddy."

_Thank God_. "I know, Buddy." I said soothingly but inside I was celebrating. My next words, though, were out of my mouth before I could stop them. "Don't worry – there're other ones for you to pet." _What was I saying? _ I thought, mentally slapping myself upside the head. _Why am I ENCOURAGING him? _

But I knew my abhorrence for being up close and personal with all these rat-infested farm animals was secondary to my son's happiness, and for some odd reason as evidenced by the devastated look on his face, he actually wanted to get to know them. _I am so fucked._ I stood up, loosening my hold on my son now that the danger had passed, but keeping one hand on his shoulder so we didn't get separated. "Let's go find a different one to pet, okay?" I whispered. _Where's a fucking petting zoo when you NEED one?_

Gus nodded eagerly, but just as we turned to go, he frowned and said, pointing straight ahead, "Look, Daddy. What is he doing _now_?" I turned and my face turned red; it was one thing to go into the backroom of Babylon to imbibe in a little recreational activity when my son was safely ensconced in his bedroom at the Munchers' house. It was quite another thing to see the same sort of activity right in front of you and have to try and explain it to your impressionable son. "Uh…" I started glibly as my mind raced for a plausible explanation. "He's… He's helping the other sheep to _procreate_."

Gus wrinkled up his face as he almost clinically stared over at the ram that was vigorously, well, _ramming_ into the female sheep underneath him; I had to give him credit for his technique at least – he was smooth and kept up quite a regular rhythm as he proceeded to hump the living daylights out of the ewe. "Pro-cate?" he repeated as he looked up at me in puzzlement.

I began to pull Gus away from the spectacle before he could ask any more questions as I heard an older woman gasp nearby when she noticed what was _up_ in Pen No. 27. "Charles!" I heard the gray-haired lady cry in disgust as she grabbed the sleeve of an overall-clad man standing next to her, presumably her husband. "Look at what that sheep is doing!"

"Aw, Martha… It's nothing I don't see out in the barn every day." As they walked away, I could have sworn I heard 'Charles' add, "_unlike in our bedroom_," but I was too busy shuffling my curious child away before he asked me any more questions and stifling the laugh that threatened to escape my lips at the absurdity of it all to make absolutely sure.

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><p><em>TBC Soon...!<em>


	2. You Make Me Feel So Young

_A/N: The State Fair... The Final Frontier...Brian continues his not-so-excellent adventure with his son. Oh, the things we do for love...!_

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><p>As my son and I finally departed the last of the animal exhibit buildings an hour later, my designer clothes may have smelled like shit – literally – but as I looked at the beaming face of my son, I decided the temporary stink coming uncharacteristically from my costly apparel was a condition that even I could grudgingly live with. At least all of my son's fingers and toes were still intact, too, after his close call. My mouth twisted into a tender expression as I gazed down into Gus's large, expressive eyes. "Did you like that, Sonny Boy?" I whispered as he shook his head exuberantly and his face broke out into a wide smile. "I'm glad," I responded sincerely with a smile of my own. "Where to now? Some of the rides? The butter sculpture exhibit? The Gospel hoedown sing-a-long?" I wisecracked, watching with amusement as Gus's nose crinkled up in confusion. At least he hadn't been totally ruined yet, because the munchers apparently had wisely shielded him from exposure to hillbilly music. "How about some games, then?" Now <em>that<em> was an area I excelled in – in more ways than one…

"Yeah!" he instantly agreed. "I want to win a basketball!" Gus was forever trying to cajole me into letting him play those mini arcade games at the local pizza joint, especially the ones that used a miniature basketball to try and make as many goals in sixty seconds' time as possible; the reward was usually some God-awful trinket made in China that no doubt cost less than all the goals you had to score in order to obtain it, but Gus loved to try just the same and he had actually gotten pretty good at it by now. I forced myself not to tell him that his hopes of winning a regulation-size basketball, or even a miniature one, was probably not going to happen today as I took his hand and nodded. "Okay, then, Sonny Boy. Let's go try our luck."

Gus skipped lightly by my side in an attempt to keep up with my longer-legged gait as we walked down the midway from the animal exhibit buildings to a fork in the pavement that branched off to the area holding the portable game trailers. Turning toward the left, we were quickly bombarded with all sorts of typical state fair games including the omnipresent ring toss over glass bottles, a "go-fish" pond, Skeeball, the hunting gallery, and the mechanical horse races. I had a hard time prying my son away from the Whack-A-Mole game as he stopped to watch in fascination while the contestants feverishly pounded away with their rubber mallets. I decided it was much too dangerous to have a soon-to-be sugar-buzzed six-year-old holding a potential weapon as I firmly held onto his hand and kept walking, trying to studiously ignore the "But, Daddy," coming from his disappointed lips; only my promise to find him some cotton candy later prevented a full-blown queen out as we continued our search for the basketball toss.

Finally spying it down near the food court, which I assumed knowing my son we would no doubt be visiting soon, I headed toward the end of the row, thankful along the way that at least I had been spared having to waste several quarters on various other games that were probably rigged. At least with a basketball and free throws, there was an actual chance of winning. Before we could get there, though, I heard a loud, brassy voice calling out to my left, "Guess Your Age or Weight!" I cringed as I felt my son pulling at my arm, knowing what was coming next.

"Let's do THAT first, Daddy!" He tugged firmly on my arm, trying to wrap his small hand around my wrist but not quite succeeding as he looked up at me imploringly. Why in the hell would my son be interested in having his age or weight guessed? I sighed; two bucks down the drain, eight quarters.

"Are you sure, Gus? The basketball game is right down there." I pointed over to my left.

The little boy nodded his head vigorously, though. "_Please_, Daddy…"

I shook my head, wondering why in the world this particular 'game' would hold any fascination for him, until I spied the stuffed giraffes handing overhead on a rope, attached with plastic clothespins by a small nylon hook behind their necks. They were the largest prizes awarded if the game attendant couldn't guess either one correctly. _THAT explained it_; for some reason ever since Gus has gone to the zoo with me a few months ago, he had developed this fascination, really an obsession, with giraffes – even his bedroom had to be redone afterward with giraffe bedding, matching curtains and even giraffe light switches. Unfortunately, though, I had searched high and low and couldn't get my hands on a decent-sized, stuffed giraffe for my son's bedroom, however. NOW I understood why he was so intent on participating in this particular game.

I smiled indulgently at him and exhaled a slow breath. "Okay, Sonny Boy, we'll give it a try. Which one should we do? Height or weight?"

Just as I figured, he said enthusiastically, "Both, Daddy, I want a giraffe!" He pointed above him and his eyes lit up at the thought as my heart melted.

Silently, though, I thought there was no way the woman could miss on either one – she only had to be within five pounds or within one year either way to be right; Gus was the perfect weight for his age and didn't have one ounce of fat on his trim body just like his old man – a fact that filled me with a certain sense of pride – but I figured if worse came to worse and he didn't prevail, I was sure I could find him one of the giraffes somewhere around here that I could just buy; in fact, I had a feeling that all I had to do was turn on the old Kinney charm and I could get one right here.

I smiled again down at my son. "Okay, then. Hop up there and we'll start with your weight," I said as I handed the young, dark-haired, gum-smacking girl two dollars, one for each guess. I frowned as Gus remained where he was. "What's wrong, Buddy?"

He scrunched up his face and squinted up at me into the sun as I reminded myself that I HAD to find him a pair of sunglasses somewhere; no son of mine was going to go blind before he was old and gray. "No, Daddy," he told me with a slightly scolding voice. "_You_."

"What _about_ me?"

"I want _you_ to do it, Daddy," he said as he began to pull me toward the scale.

"Me?" I couldn't help rolling my eyes; Brian Kinney did not make himself an exhibit unless he was on the dance floor of Babylon being cruised by the entire male population of Pittsburgh. He did NOT stand up on a large industrial-strength scale to be weighed like a side of prize-winning beef. "No, Sonny Boy, you do it – I'll watch you, okay?"

My son, however, would not be dissuaded. His lower lip stuck out and quivered as he let go of my hand and crossed his arms across his chest. "No, Daddy. I want YOU to do it. Please?"

_There_ was that magic word and that face again; how did my son ever get so good at playing me like a fine-tuned instrument? It must be the old Kinney finesse and good looks, I decided, as I finally exhaled a resigned breath and nodded reluctantly. "Okay," I told him as his face instantly transformed from disappointment and resolve to excited anticipation as I grudgingly walked over to the scale. I stood there a little uncomfortably as the young girl, who appeared to be all of perhaps twenty, looked me up and down as if she would open my mouth and examine my teeth at any moment like a Grand Champion stallion. I felt a certain smug satisfaction, though, as I noticed her eyes gazing at me approvingly; I curled my lips under and flashed her my most handsome smile that always got me what I wanted. _I still have it…_

I couldn't help the startled gasp shortly afterward that flew out of my mouth as soon as I heard this upstart of a girl say with conviction, "170."

"What in the…?" I turned to glare at her in shock, my hands on my hips as she actually shrunk back from me slightly. "You'd better be talking about my I.Q.," I warned her as she glanced back at me almost apologetically and shrugged her shoulders sheepishly.

"Go on, Daddy! Get on the scale! I want to see!" Gus was jumping up and down lightly in eagerness, wanting to see the big, round scale perform its magic and find out if he had won.

I continued to give the game operator the evil eye as I huffed out an aggravated puff of breath and grudgingly stepped up on the scale; at least I knew I had her beat on _this_ part. I noticed to my consternation that a few of the fairgoers had stopped in their tracks to watch the large, red arrow swing widely back and forth as it tried to settle on one specific number; one lady with an obvious fake red wig on her head reminded me slightly of a slender version of Debbie with her heavily made-up face and colorful, almost clown-like outfit of matching pink top and shorts with yellow flowers on them as I waited for the scale's arrow to finally stop. It swung back and forth between 110 and 205, then 200, then 150, until finally it slowly as it teetered between 160 and 165, finally landing pretty much exactly where I knew it would: 162. I turned a little smugly to look at my not-so-bright estimator with a _so there_ look on my face as she peered back at me a little self-consciously.

"We have a winner!" she droned out in her brassy monotone with the sort of enthusiasm you might convey if you were having an ingrown toenail removed; no doubt with HER skills of observation she probably said that several times a day. As I stepped down from the scale, I glared at the people nearby, daring them to stick around until they apparently took the hint and began to walk away. I faced the young girl again, knowing I was only halfway done with my promise to my son as I waited for her to guess the other figure, silently warning her with my eyes that she'd better not fuck up this time, giraffe or NO giraffe.

I stood there shuffling my feet restlessly, wanting to be anywhere but there, while she again studied me. This time I didn't care if she admired me or not; I just wanted to get the hell away from there and over to the basketball hoop. She handed me a pencil and a pad of paper. "Here, write down your age," she prompted me as I hurriedly jotted down the figure, tempted to deliberately lowball it just to annoy her but deciding to play it fair for fear it might somehow backfire. I tore off the top piece of paper to hold and returned the pad and pencil to her as I waited for her to speak. Finally, she popped her gum at me and eyed me sideways as she said with surprising conviction, "I'd say 40."

Gus actually had the nerve to giggle at her response as he jumped up and down in glee; I had just had my 36th birthday a short while ago and he had attended the small get-together at Deb's house in celebration of it along with the munchers, so he was quite aware of my current age, which was a lot more than I could say for this misguided, apparently totally blind girl staring back at me. "Yay! Daddy won, Daddy won!"

I pursed my lips in insulted irritation as I handed the piece of paper to her with my actual age on it. She again shrugged her shoulders indifferently and shoved her official Pennsylvania State Fair visor farther back on her head as she simply said, "Sorry," knowing how totally indignant I was at the moment. She turned to avoid looking at me anymore, undoubtedly feeling my heated gaze on her as she looked down at Gus with a smile and said, "Which prize do you want, Sweetie?"

A few seconds later, Gus was the proud owner of a new giraffe, the large, tall-necked creature tucked rather clumsily under my left arm as the two of us sauntered toward the basketball hoops and I tried to take solace in the knowledge that I would never need to see that cross-eyed, gum-chomping girl ever again.

To my credit, I found out my perceptions about my son's shooting arm were correct; Gus was quite accurate in his miniature basketball free throws; so accurate, in fact, that not only was I carting around an oversized stuffed giraffe under one arm, I was also soon carrying around a medium-sized Ziploc bag with two goldfish swimming around in it. Gus had made 8 out of 10 free throws with deadly aim, qualifying for several prizes, including, unfortunately, the goldfish. Thinking they would soon wind up doing the breaststroke upside down in a glass bowl somewhere, I tried fervently to persuade my son to pick a prize, _any_ prize, except for the fish but again, all he had to do was look at me with that quivering lower lip and those teary-looking, doe-eyes and I was a goner. _Shit_. Sighing in resignation, I held tightly onto the plastic bag with one hand while I grasped my son's hand with the other, hoping to God I would be able to get to the car with them still alive or my son's waterworks would _really_ start gushing.

I thankfully spotted a small gift shop temporarily set up under an awning coming up on our left, right near the food trailers, and steered my son over toward it in search of a pair of sunglasses. A few minutes and $15 dollars later - _$15 fucking dollars_ for a pair of cheaply-made, lime-green, plastic Sponge Bob Squarepants glasses – my son was chattering away nonstop, explaining that all that walking had left him hungry and thirsty.

I smirked good-naturedly, knowing that was bound to come up soon, as I nodded back at him. It was almost 12:00 anyway and we were due to meet up with Michael and J.R. near the corndog stand, of all things, wherever the fuck THAT was. I had mentioned in passing to Mikey last week that I had been snookered into taking my son here to the fair and he had piped up immediately with almost as much enthusiasm as Gus had exhibited, reminding me how he and Vic and Debbie had come here often in the past when he was just a kid and how he had been wanting to start the same tradition with his daughter. Thinking it would make my life a little easier having an ally, I welcomed the idea of meeting him near the food courts when the high school kid he had hired to work part-time during the summer arrived for his shift at the comics store; if I was going to have to endure the sights, smells, and inaccuracy of half-twit fair employees, the least my best friend could do was suffer along with me.

I looked down at my son, seeing my own sunglasses reflected in his toy ones as I said, "Okay, Sonny Boy. We need to find your Uncle Mikey and sister first, though. He's supposed to be at the corndog stand. Let's see if we can find them, okay?" Gus nodded at me as I continued to clasp his hand, fearful that if he let go I'd never find him in the congested space; now that it was fast approaching noon, it appeared that everyone at the fair had all decided it was time to eat – there was barely enough room to maneuver around everyone as I took advantage of my height and craned my neck to try and find an overhead sign that said something about corndogs for sale. I sighed in frustration, seeing signs for everything from funnel cakes (_What in the fuck was a funnel cake, anyway?)_ to fried pickles. I frowned at the image that conjured up; _fried pickles?_ Was there no end to this weird food? I didn't even want to contemplate what THAT would taste like if you washed it down with the fried Kool-Aid (did you drink or eat that shit, anyway?) before I finally spotted a square-shaped, white-and-red food trailer with the words "Corn Dogs" festooned in big, yellow letters across the top. There were two rows of round white lights across the top and bottom, no doubt to lend an exciting ambiance to the scene once nighttime fell. I was thankful I wouldn't be there to experience that joy, though, because I fully intended to be long gone before darkness fell.

"This way, Buddy," I told my son as I steered us toward the corndog trailer; as we got closer, I could see Michael waving with one hand as he cradled JR in his other one near a grove of picnic tables scattered under the thick shade of a bunch of mature maple trees. Letting out a sigh of relief at seeing something familiar, I headed over toward the tables, my son and his prize paraphernalia in tow.

Michael grinned and I rolled my eyes as I walked up to the two of them. "Don't say it," I warned him as he gave me a quick hug. "Hey, watch the fish," I warned him as I held the bag out from my body so they wouldn't get squished; I didn't want to be responsible for committing any acts of fish homicide.

"I won a giraffe and some fish!" Gus reported to Michael proudly as he pointed over to his stash.

"I see that," Michael replied with a warm smile. "How did you manage that, Gus?"

"Gus…" I cringed. _Please don't, Sonny Boy_, but it was too late. "I won the fish with the basketball toss, and Daddy helped me win the giraffe."

"How did he do that?" Michael asked him as he eyed me in amusement. "Did he pick up some tricks along the way?"

"Uh... I thought you were hungry, Gus. Don't you want to eat something now?" I quickly said, attempting to take control of the conversation before it got out of hand.

But Gus had started and, like a freight train with no brakes, he could not be stopped. The words gushed out as he enthusiastically reported, "No...he didn't do any tricks. Some lady had to guess how old Daddy was and how much he weighed. She got it wrong and I won!"

Michael chuckled as he turned to look at me, no doubt realizing my discomfiture as he asked my son, "What did she guess, Gus?"

I tried one last time. "Michael… My son is hungry."

He quickly dismissed me with a wave of his hand as he said, "Just a minute – I want to hear this."

I groaned softly as my son promptly supplied helpfully, "She said he was 40. I forgot how much the scale said he weighed but she was WAY off; she said 170. And then I got my giraffe! Isn't he cool?" He pointed over to the cherished possession, still tucked under my arm. Why did my son have to have such a fucking photographic memory?

Michael guffawed, but then quickly covered his mouth and immediately sobered as he saw the death-ray look in my eyes; he pretended to cough as he said, "Well, that's great, Gus. Why don't we go get something to eat now? I was going to get me and JR some corndogs, how about one of those?"

Gus jumped up and down excitedly as he held onto my hand tightly. "Yay! Can I have some French fries and a Coke, too?"

"You sure can," Michael told him agreeably with a smile. He turned to me and said, "Will you keep an eye on JR for me?" I nodded as he took Gus's hand. "Come on, Gus," Michael said as he placed JR in my arms and I sat down on one of the picnic benches, trying hard to ignore what my ass was probably sitting on. I knew as nasty as I felt at the moment, a little more shit really didn't matter at this point – my outfit was heading to the dry cleaners as soon as possible anyway. I noticed that even Jenny Rebecca seemed to be crinkling her nose up at me as she turned her head to look at me curiously.

"I know, J.R… You don't have to tell ME," I murmured with an irritated huff as I jiggled her slightly on my knee to keep her happy, although I had to admit, she seemed to be a pretty happy-go-lucky baby most of the time; I could still remember when Gus would start fussing or crying whenever the munchers or I left him alone, even for a short while. It was some time before Gus would be content to be left with a babysitter, although oddly enough, Justin had always been able to calm him. Of course, Justin was special in a lot of ways…and possessed a lot of _special_ talents as well...

Thoughts about my partner were temporarily tamped down as I noticed Michael and my son returning, loaded up with drinks, corndogs, and who-knows-what. As they got closer, I noticed one sturdy, cardboard tray with four drinks in one of Michael's hands and two large, white paper bags in his other; Gus, too, was carrying a large, clear plastic bag of pink cotton candy in one of his hands.

"Michael… What in the fu…uh, _world_, did you buy?" I groused as he and Gus sat down across from J.R. and me and he set the bags and drinks down on the weatherbeaten, wooden surface.

He shrugged. "It's the state fair, Brian," he said as if that were explanation enough. He quickly took out some cardboard, red-and-white checked food containers and began to unwrap the first object which I vaguely recognized as the ubiquitous corndog, whatever the fuck was in them. I really had no idea what exactly the ingredients were, and even less of a clue what was actually inside the wiener itself. I watched in barely-controlled distaste as Michael proceeded to unwrap a total of four corndogs and lay each one down in a separate food tray.

"Michael – why would you possibly think I'd be interested in eating a _corndog_?" I said the last word as if it were akin to a dead mouse – although, upon reflection, I could imagine it probably _tasted_ like that…

Michael shrugged as he tore open a mustard packet and squirted the contents into the bottom of the rectangular-shaped tray; he handed it to Gus, who proceeded to swirl the tip of the corndog, which I had to admit looked a lot like a 10-inch, batter-fried cock, into the mustard before bringing it to his mouth and taking a bite.

A few seconds later, Michael also retrieved from one of the sacks a small, paper cup holding a stack of fries inside and placed them down next to my son, deftly tearing open a ketchup packet and squirting it on the top for him.

As I watched my son take the corndog in his mouth, I couldn't help smirking. Michael rolled his eyes as he noticed my amused expression, somehow instantly ascertaining what was going in my mind. I curled my lips under as he muttered with a short laugh, "Only you."

I grinned back at him, tongue-in-cheek. "Well, it never hurts to start a boy out with the proper education." I looked over at my son, who was eagerly attacking his corndog. "Don't take it all in your mouth at once, Sonny Boy. Go slowly – I wouldn't want you to choke on it. It takes practice before you can perfect your technique."

"Brian," Michael admonished me as I raised my eyebrows at him innocently in a _what?_ sort of expression. I reached inside my shorts pocket to retrieve my cell phone and check the time: 12:15 p.m. I stood up and stepped over the picnic bench's wooden seat. "Would you look after Sonny Boy for a little while, Mikey? I have to take a piss."

"Yeah… Sure," Michael told me as I walked around the table to place J.R. down gingerly on the bench next to her father. "But I promised J.R. I'd take her on the merry-go-round soon."

I smiled as an inspiration hit me. "Good idea, Mikey! Gus has been wanting to ride some of the rides, too, haven't you, Sonny Boy?" To my relief, my son reacted just the way I _thought_ he would, nodding his head vigorously as his eyes lit up; he gave a muffled "Yay," also, which would have erupted from his mouth a little more intelligibly, too, if it hadn't been presently stuffed full of a combination of corndog and French fries. "Why don't I meet you over by the rides in about an hour? I might decide to do a little _riding _myself."

"But…"

"Thanks, Mikey!" I warmly replied as I slapped him on the back; he coughed when a bite of his food threatened to choke him as I hastily picked up the remaining tray with the corndog and began to walk away before he could say anything further. Michael's eyes flashed with irritation as I hastily made my exit.

"Hey, I'm still taking care of the giraffe and the fish – what _more_ do you want from me?" I countered as I turned around briefly to face him.

"How about doing some growing up?" he grumbled as he shook his head.

"I'll see you in an hour, Sonny Boy!" I called back to my son, ignoring my best friend's rhetorical question as I proceeded to escape before it was too late, laughing softly to myself at my success. _You're so easy, Michael_…

Safely out of Michael's line of sight several seconds later as I was swallowed up by the burgeoning crowd, I grimaced as I looked down at the batter-fried cock facsimile lying in the paper basket; a small, plastic tub that looked suspiciously like tartar sauce sat next to it, and I could see grease stains underneath the outline of the food. I wrinkled my nose in disgust as I picked the corndog up by the stick end almost like it was the tail of a dead rat, letting the cardboard box and plastic condiment tub fall away down into the black, metal trashcan lying underneath it as I reluctantly held onto what could only be loosely referred to as _food_.

Corndog, giraffe, and fish firmly in hand, then, I looked around to catch my bearings, noticing a line of special entertainment-type, open-flapped tents lining both sides of one area of the midway; on one side I could see a couple of palm readers and fortune tellers next to a portable funhouse, and some more makeshift, open-air shops under awnings, holding wares of all kinds such as tacky souvenirs and apparel. On the other side were a number of fair employees dressed in period garb from the 1800's demonstrating such skills as blacksmithing, weaving, and pottery making and the obligatory kettle korn stand. At the very end of the section, however, I could make out a couple of canvas tents with sandwich boards propped up out front, indicating there were caricaturists working, providing an impromptu portrait of any fairgoer willing to pay the right price for instant notoriety. My eyes scanned the area closely before, spotting what I was looking for, I strode purposefully toward my goal.


	3. Someone's Got a Big Head

_A/N: Brian goes in search of an 'amusement ride' of his own while Michael takes care of Gus and J.R..._

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><p>As I got closer to the two caricature booths erected side by side, I noticed something quite peculiar; while the tents were pretty much identical in design and layout, one tent was practically devoid of customers except for two teenage girls sitting in chairs next to each other, giggling as they had their portraits drawn by a brunet, long-haired, beatnik-type, skinny twink, while the other artist's tent was virtually surrounded by potential customers. I <em>also<em> noticed that the people milling around the more popular artist's tent were all male, although I would have thought most fans of caricature drawings were either females or couples wanting to commemorate their adventure together as a fond memory of their date.

As I walked closer to the busier tent, set up in a grassy area next to the paved midway, I noticed the male customers were waiting impatiently in line, periodically poking their heads around the next person in front of them to watch the artist draw while they tapped their foot restlessly or stared down at their phones as they texted; a couple of them were even taking photos of the caricaturist.

_What the fuck_? My eyes darkened as I noticed the openly admiring gazes on all their faces. _Just who the fuck did they think they were? _ I did notice that the object of their affection did not appear to really even notice their open ogling; he had his head down and was too busy working on his latest sketch to realize everyone thought HE was the masterpiece.

As I walked closer to my goal and had a chance to surreptitiously study the man sitting behind the large sketch board, I could certainly see why he would be the subject of so much scrutiny and ogling. His long-fingered, slender hand swept smoothly over the canvas as his eyes darted quickly between the person posing and his medium, the tip of his tongue periodically poking out in concentration as he worked; it was amazing to watch him perform and he was definitely one beautifully put-together package. Big, expressive blue eyes, blond hair that shone like golden wheat ready for harvest – the bright sun above reflecting off the silky strands like a halo – full, dusty pink-colored lips, especially the plump lower one just right for kissing and sucking, and slim, elegant hands, ideal for providing just the right touch for pleasurable pursuits. He was dressed in a maroon-colored, form-fitting nylon tank top that complimented his light skin perfectly, and a pair of beige-colored cotton shorts that molded to his slender waist and displayed a generous amount of toned thighs and legs. The man was absolutely stunning and just like the others I couldn't take my eyes away as, unbeknownst to him, I also continued to watch him closely.

As I stood there appreciating the smooth, fluidic motion of the artist's hand, I could feel myself growing hard just by looking at the vision in front of me, and my mouth almost watered as my imagination began to run away with me. I could readily envision those hands caressing my chest and shoulders, the fingernails lightly scraping against my nipples before they slowly feathered teasingly down my chest, lingering momentarily around my stomach as my muscles fluttered under the expert touch, until finally, at long last, one of those skillful hands arrived at my aching cock to firmly wrap itself around me and stroke me to perfection while the other hand teased me from behind. I pulled at the rounded collar of my wifebeater, feeling the sweat tickling my neck. _Was it getting even hotter all of a sudden?_

I was impressed by the ability of the blond to ignore the distractions around him – all the people talking, the obnoxious calliope music blaring on overhead speakers, the mechanical sounds of the fair rides and the shrieks of the passengers as they were tossed about or turned upside down in their seats did not seem to distract him at all as he diigently continued his drawing. All of that seemed to fade into the background as he sketched, constantly flicking his long-lashed, sapphire-blue eyes from his canvas back to his subject as he worked to complete his latest piece.

I continued to thread myself around the ogling male throng until I was standing behind the object of my appreciation. From my new vantage point, I could get a better look at what he was drawing; it was a simple charcoal sketch but so amazing in its detail and accuracy. The artist was doing a good job of maintaining his concentration, but the man currently sitting on the chair posing for him was obviously attempting to win his favor, too, just like all the others, as he smiled over at him and gave him a wink. "You know, you're the best attraction here today. When do you get off, Beautiful? I'd love to get _off_ on YOU when you _do_."

I felt my blood pressure rising at the presumptuousness of the obnoxious, dark-haired, goateed man and my breath hitched as I waited a little anxiously for the other man's response. After a few seconds, I thought I heard him say, "Sorry – no fraternizing with the customers." I wasn't positive that was what he said, but I could tell by the disappointed look on the other man's face that it wasn't what he had wanted to hear. I smiled in approval as a few seconds later I watched the artist sign his name and tear a sheet off a large, white sketch pad and hand the finished product to his admirer in a silent signal that his time was up. _Yeah, asshole… Your time was up a LONG time ago…__You really think you had a chance with HIM?  
><em>

The crestfallen, would-be suitor stood up, apparently dismissed, but he wasn't easily deterred. He handed the artist a twenty-dollar bill - twice the fee – and said, "Keep the change, gorgeous. You know, I'm not your customer _now," _he pointed out with a smile. "So what time can we hook up?" I could hear grumbling around me from the other men in line as if they were wanting their turn with the artist, also, and my blood began to boil.

My face hardened into an angry scowl; I DETESTED men with goatees... _What part of fuck off didn't he understand_? I could hear some of the would-be customers grumbling their displeasure in an attempt to move him along as well, but I decided that it was time to take matters into my own hands as I walked around the startled artist to physically grab the obstinate man's arm and pull him away. "Ding, ding, you're done, pal – move along now or I'll shove that picture up a part of your anatomy where the sun is NEVER going to shine." I fixed a steely glare on the other man as I towered over him, all 6'2" of me, thinking that move would be more than sufficient to get my point across and send him scurrying back to whatever hole he crawled out of, but to the fucker's credit the other man simply stood there and eyed me back unflinchingly.

"I beg your pardon, _asshole, _but who the fuck are _YOU_? The _fair-y_ police?" He snickered as he tried to pull his arm away, but my fingers attached themselves around his wrist like a steel vise and there was no way I was letting him go just yet, not after he royally pissed me off.

"You can call me whatever the fuck you want, _Mr. Dense and Dimwitted_, but you're out of here!" And with that I slammed the butt-end of Gus's stuffed giraffe into his stomach as hard as I could and released my hold on him at the same time as he stumbled back against the chair, the meticulously-constructed caricature of him falling, curled up, to the ground nearby. I watched as the jerk sputtered his displeasure at me as I picked up his drawing and threw it at him onto the pavement. "Now get the hell out of here before I make good on my threat!"

The angry man began to curse under his breath and said something along the lines of "He's not fucking worth it," before he finally rose to his feet, rolled sketch in his fist, and stumbled away as he turned around to give the artist one last fleeting look of _what might have been_ before he finally walked away to be swallowed up in the crowd.

_Shows what YOU know, fucker, _I couldn't help thinking smugly as my eyes bored into the back of his head, making sure he really was leaving. The men around me burst into applause, thinking no doubt that maybe it was their turn now to have a go at the gorgeous blond as I twisted back around to give the artist a trademark smirk. I watched as he rolled his eyes and grinned slightly back at me in amusement as I curled my lips under in response, my heart doing a slight flip flop at the look he was giving me. Feeling emboldened now that my presence was known, I walked closer to the drawing area, intent on getting my just reward for saving the artist from what would have surely been a fate worse than death when I heard him say politely, "Uh… Thanks for your help, Sir, but if you're wanting your picture drawn, you and your little friends there will have to take your place at the back of the line like everyone else." I watched as he eyed my corndog hungrily before he suddenly grabbed it out of my hand. "I'll be glad to take this as partial payment against your fee, though," he said, explaining, "since I didn't have any breakfast and I'm _starving_."

My mouth ran dry as I watched him take just the tip of the corndog into his mouth and hollow his lips to suck on it and wet it thoroughly with his tongue before he batted those baby blues at me and clamped down on it with his teeth to take a big bite out of it. I could hear the collective groans of the other men behind me who had observed the artist's unique approach to enjoying his corndog, all of them no doubt wishing it was_ their_ 'corndog' he was eating. I couldn't help thinking the same thing before I remembered what he had just said to me; of course, the men directly in the front of the line that snickered at his comment didn't help, either, as I opened my mouth to protest and huffed out an indignant breath.

I stood there with my hands on my hips and glared at him, which wasn't easy to do considering I was holding onto a bag of goldfish in one hand and a stuffed giraffe with the other. The little shit had managed to make my cock even harder now with that little stunt as well as make me look like a love-struck fool. I harrumphed back at him. "What makes you think I even WANT my picture drawn by you?" I countered, nodding my head over at the other artist who had one person waiting in line. "You're not the only fish in the pond, Sport."

The artist licked corndog residue from his perfect lips and then smiled a blinding smile at me as I pursed my lips in annoyance. He knew exactly what he was doing and exactly what I wanted and I knew I wasn't going to get it – at least not yet. My impression was confirmed when he shrugged his shoulders seemingly in indifference. "Well, good luck with that, then. I think they're selling fish and chips over at the food booths." The men behind me tittered once more as I heard one of them call out, "Yeah, you asshole, get to the back of the line just like the rest of us had to." Shouts of "Yeah!" echoed around me as, with one more icy glare at the blond, I finally let out a frustrated breath and slowly took my goldfish and giraffe with me back to the end of the line, seething as I crossed my arms over my chest as the Ziploc bag swung back and forth in my fist.

I periodically poked my head around the men in front of me just like I was in a slow-moving line at the grocery store as I waited impatiently for my _turn_. Finally, tapping my foot the entire time until I was at the head of the line, I waited with agitation as the beautiful blond artist completed another sketch of yet another male admirer and the man openly flirted with him, too. I was boiling on the inside, about to have a go at it again with the stuffed giraffe, when finally the man stood up and accepted his rolled-up drawing, giving me one wary glance to make sure I wasn't going to throttle him before he nodded at Justin with a wishful smile and slowly walked away, unfurling his rolled-up masterpiece to admire the artist's work.

Finally, it was just me and the blond as I watched him size me up. I smirked and arched one eyebrow at him in challenge as he told me to sit down in the hard, white plastic chair; he chuckled softly as the exposed skin of my thighs came into contact with the hot surface of the chair and I jumped slightly at the burning sensation. "Too hot for you to handle, Stud?" he asked me in amusement as he seemed to study me detachedly like I was a vase being used for a still life portrait.

My face reddened as I heard some customers behind me snicker at the artist's bravado. I squirmed a little in my seat as I responded as confidently as I could, "Wouldn't YOU like to know?" I responded arrogantly before commenting, "It might be nice if this seat wasn't sitting in the sun." I sighed heavily. "Just fucking get on with it, okay?"

The artist nodded with a slight smile of amusement as he nodded over at me. "I can see you're emotionally attached to your little friends there, but let's put them down until I'm done, okay?"

"Huh?" I watched as he nodded over at me toward the goldfish and the giraffe. I shook my head in embarrassment, knowing how ridiculous I must look. "If you must know, they're for my son," I offered lamely by way of explanation as the blond nodded with a look that said, _Sure they are_, and took the bag and stuffed animal away from me; our hands touched briefly for just a moment as he reached for the giraffe. It was just a second or two, but it was enough for me to feel a jolt of electricity run through me as our gazes locked briefly.

"Uh, huh," he murmured patronizingly as he gently placed the bag of fish on a nearby small, plastic table lying shaded under the awning next to the giraffe. "Whatever you say, Sir." I glared at him over his patronizing tone of voice as he instructed me, "Now hold still for a few minutes while I sketch you." He started to place the pencil against the drawing canvas, only to stop before he began, his hand held a few inches away from the paper. "Take your glasses off," he said softly as he looked over at me. "I want to see your eyes."

The voices in line behind me quieted to a murmur and the other, more distracting noises of the fair quickly faded away as I did as I was asked, deciding to indulge myself in admiring the incredible work of art staring back at me as he proceeded to begin the preliminary sketch for my caricature. I watched, fascinated, as he continually divided his attention between his paper and me, his little pink tongue flicking out occasionally as he concentrated harder on getting my image down just right; I enjoyed the flush that rose to his pale cheeks as I licked my lips slowly and grinned back at him after a few minutes and winked. As he continued his work and I sat there, admiring the view, I had to grudgingly agree with _Mr. Dense and Dimwitted_ – he WAS the best attraction here, and my cock was in definite agreement with that assessment. It couldn't wait to get acquainted thoroughly with _his_ cock.

Finally, I peered around the easel to see what appeared to be a completed work. As I began to stand up, however, glad to get out of my God-awful chair, he reached over and pushed me down by the shoulder with his left hand. "Uh, Uh," he scolded me. "I'm not finished yet."

"But it _looks _like it's done," I protested, wanting desperately to follow in the footsteps of Gus's ram and engage in a little intense ramming of my own.

The other man shook his head. "No… As your reward for rescuing me, I'm going to finish yours in _color_."

"Oh, goody," I said drolly. "That's not necessary, Mr…"

"You can call me J.T.," he said mysteriously.

I bit back my grin by rolling my lips tightly together before I replied, "Uh… That's not necessary, Mr. J.T."

The blond laughed softly, a tinkling, contagious sort of laugh. "No, just J.T."

I nodded politely. "That's not necessary… _J.T._ Just sign the damned thing and be done with it. I have a _pressing engagement._"

But the beautiful blond shook his head as I groaned in frustration. "No, I insist. It'll just take a couple of minutes, and then you can go _ride the rides_." The little shit had the gall to grin at me as I glared back at him. "Good thing I already have the basic sketch done," he chided me as he reached over to grab a box of colored pencils, "because your expression has changed remarkably since we started."

"That's not the ONLY thing that's changed," I muttered under my breath, loud enough for only he and I to hear; my shorts, which had already been snug on me, were now downright painful. The artist seemed to ignore my statement, though, as he turned his attention back to completing the sketch.

Finally, after a few minutes, he put his pencils down and stared over at me as if he were making sure I matched what he had drawn. He nodded in satisfaction. "I think that does it," he said as I heaved out a breath of relief and stood up, reaching over quickly for my goldfish to hold the bag out in front of my crotch; the last thing I wanted was for everyone – including the cause of my condition – to know just how much this little blond spitfire had affected me. "I'm thrilled to hear it," I snarked as I looked down at him, tucking Gus's giraffe back under my arm as I stretched out my hand to accept my artwork. Before I could take it, though, I heard him say, "That'll be $8.50."

"Eight fifty?" I retorted in disbelief. "That fucking corndog cost me five bucks!"

The blond chuckled. "Well, you got gypped then; it wasn't that good. I've had better. Eight fifty. That work will be worth a lot more than THAT someday," he promised me.

I snorted. "Hardly likely," I replied as I dug into my shorts pocket for my wallet and managed to wedge it against my hip as I slipped a $10.00 bill out. "You got an awfully high opinion of yourself. Better keep the change, though, Blondie – I think you'll need it." I took a quick look at what the caricaturist had done and immediately noticed something odd. "Why is my head so big?" I complained.

The blond snorted. "You have to ask?" Again, I could hear tittering coming from behind me as I turned to stare down the man's admirers, who quickly quieted down as I fixed them with a cold, steely stare. I turned back to study the drawing, knowing my line of questioning was apparently not going to get me anywhere constructive when I noticed something else. The artist tried to hold back a smile as he handed me the sketch and I frowned at something blue that caught my eye. "What the fuck is that?" I asked.

"What?" He replied.

"That blue shit at the bottom of the picture."

"Oh, that. Looks like blueberry ice cream to me," he replied helpfully as I suddenly looked down at my expensive designer sandal to notice a blue tint oozing up from the sides. "What the hell?" I growled as I jerked my leg up to peer at the bottom of the shoe's sole and noticed the remnants of what appeared to be part of a blueberry ice cream cone sticking to it. "Shit!" I swore as I looked around and noticed a crushed sugar cone lying nearby with blue liquid pooling around it on the pavement. Apparently I had stepped right into it without noticing. "Oh, that's just great," I said aloud. "I not only smell like sheep dung but now I've ruined my Gucci sandals. Fuck!" I snarled in disgust as I put my foot back down and slid it rapidly back and forth on the blacktop in hopes of removing as much as possible. But I knew there would be no way to get blueberry ice cream out of a leather sole; no, it was going to be yet another wonderful souvenir of my time here at my first – and last – state fair. Well, I decided, I could at least get _something _worthwhile out of it.

I glared back at the blond Michelangelo as he actually had the gall to laugh at my predicament. "That's it," I retorted as I looked around intently; what I had in mind for my 'amusement' here would require ambidextrous skills, and I knew one goldfish looked just like another one – all I'd have to do is win another stupid, cheesy carnival game and I could take care of that dilemma without any problem. Fastening my gaze on a little, blond-haired, pig-tailed girl standing nearby licking a red Sno-cone next to a woman who appeared to be her mother, I quickly walked the few steps over to her side and firmly pushed the bag into her empty hand; the water sloshed around inside the bag as the two fish jostled back and forth. "Here, Goldilocks, I'm sure you'll give them a really good home," I told her as she looked at me in shock; I couldn't tell if she was utterly delighted at my totally altruistic gesture or scared to death, but at the moment I didn't give a fuck.

The woman standing next to her, a brunette who appeared to be in her thirties and wearing a shirt that said _What Happens at the Fair, Stays at the Fair_ looked at me in disbelief, probably thinking I was some weird sort of pervert. "Sir!" She cried out as I quickly made my escape back over toward the caricature tent. "Sir, we can't take…"

"Oh, don't thank me, It's my pleasure, believe me!" I shouted over my shoulder as I rushed over to Justin with the giraffe under my arm and grabbed his wrist to yank him to his feet.

"Hey," He protested feebly as I began to drag him away. "I'm working here!"

"Yeah, you asshole!" Someone yelled at me from the front of the line. "It's _my_ turn with him!"

_Not in THIS lifetime, fucker… _"State law," I retorted back as I continued to pull a half-willing Justin alongside me, weaving expertly around the milling crowds. "All fair employees must take a snack break after each four-hour period!" Soon we were thankfully swallowed up among the rest of the fairgoers as I quickly looked around for a place to undertake some serious _snacking_ of my own...

"Brian," Justin protested as I wrapped my hand firmly around his waist to prevent him from escaping; now that I had the teasing little shit in my grasp I wasn't about to let him go now. "I can't just run off like that."

I pulled him tightly against my side, uncaring and oblivious to whether or not anyone noticed. "Sure you can," I whispered in his ear, feeling him shiver a little in response; apparently I wasn't the _only_ one affected. "Wouldn't want that talented little drawing hand to get too tired; I'm going to have use for it very shortly."

I heard Justin sigh, knowing his counterargument against my logic was halfhearted at best; ever since he had locked gazes on me a short while ago, I know it had taken every bit of restraint on his part not to jump out of his foldup studio chair and run over and tackle me to the ground to shower me with kisses all over my sumptuous, tanned body; I seldom wore shorts to spotlight my toned, long and lean legs so when I did I know it made my partner horny as hell, just the way I liked him. But I noticed he had tried hard to show restraint, undoubtedly feeling an obligation toward a former PIFA classmate of his, Greg Shepherd, a fellow artist who had signed on to be one of the caricaturist artists for the fair. Justin had told me the man was hoping to make enough money between his salary and tips during his stint here to help pay for his daughter's third birthday party next month. Like a lot of young artists first starting out, he was working whatever jobs he could until he hopefully had his first big break and he and his family could live more comfortably.

Unfortunately, the man's daughter had been rushed to the hospital late last week after spraining her arm after a fall off her swing set and he had needed someone to fill in for him just through today; he had assured Justin he would be able to return tomorrow now that his daughter's cast was in place and his wife could stay home with her while she continued to recover. Justin, being the softy that he was, particularly when it came to young children, had agreed to help him out for a few days and donate the proceeds to him for his daughter's medical expenses.

Of course, I had been highly amused when I had learned that all of Justin's hard work and expensive education were going to be richly utilized by having his talent displayed at such a _prestigious_ venue; but my glee at Justin's expense was short-lived once I had found out I would reluctantly be joining him here. In fact, Justin had found it downright hysterical at the time; I for one hadn't found it very amusing at all. At least things were definitely looking up now, though, as I steered Justin toward a makeshift metal structure on the right; there was a thick, braided yellow nylon rope hung across the metal entrance ramp with a hastily-drawn white paper sign hanging down from it that said _Temporarily Closed for Repairs. _He smiled. _Perfect_…

Justin pulled up short as we approached the barrier and he got a good look at where we were heading. "The Fun House, Brian?"

I smirked as I stepped over the rope and tugged at Justin's arm to follow me. "Where else would we go to have fun, Sunshine?" I asked solemnly, thinking our destination was a no-brainer. Justin huffed out a short laugh and shook his head before he took my proffered hand and gingerly stepped over the rope to join me. I noticed him take one quick look around to make sure we weren't being observed before we quickly walked up the metal gangplank and disappeared inside.

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><p><em>AN: _ _I want to profusely thank one of my readers and a special friend, Gloria, for drawing a caricature of Brian for me - she is so talented! I can't post her amazing drawing over here, but if you go over to that 'other site' (MW), you can look at it if you're curious...As always, I would love to hear your comments - like most authors I crave feedback! Thanks for reading!:)_


	4. A Little Trip Through the Funhouse

_A/N: It's just smut this time, people...simply smut - ha!_

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><p>The heavy metal door that I shut to close us off from the rest of the world outside resembled that of a submarine's, complete with a round wheel I had to turn to open and close it. Upon closing it behind us, I was surprised to find that we were immediately engulfed in total darkness; I couldn't see anything at all in the inky blackness, but inside the metal structure it was remarkably cooler than outside and provided some relief from the heat. Well, at least ONE kind of heat; my cock was still painfully hard and needed drastic attention, ever since I had laid eyes on a certain blond approximately an hour ago, and now that we were finally alone, it was kicking into high gear. I could hear the slight creaking of our temporary shelter while it rocked slightly in the wind as we stood there and listened for any sounds of occupation, but thankfully I couldn't hear any workmen inside; apparently either they were taking a lunch break or they hadn't gotten around to working on any of the repairs yet.<p>

"Looks like we have the place to ourselves," I told Justin happily; I could tell by his soft breathing on my face that he was facing me in the narrow-feeling corridor. "So let's play a little hide and go seek_._ I'll even give you a _head_-start." I unzipped my shorts and sought Justin's hand in the dark, locating it as my fingers curled over his and I placed our clasped hands over my hard-as-a-rock dick tented underneath my briefs. "Here's an extra clue to its identity: It's big and hard and horny – I wonder what it could be?" I helpfully supplied. I groaned as I felt Justin obligingly giving it an experimental squeeze through the cotton fabric.

"Well, it certainly isn't another corndog," he snickered with a slight giggle as he removed his hand and snaked it inside my now wet briefs to find bare, hot skin; his hand was soft and warm and oh-so-wonderfully familiar as he curled his fingers around my arousal. "What a big boner you have down there," he teased me. "See, I told you – you DO have a big head."

"Well, you should _know_…" As Justin gave me one more possessive squeeze, I couldn't take it anymore as I let out a loud moan of pent-up frustration. The stuffed giraffe promptly dropped to the floor, temporarily forgotten, as I firmly slid one arm around his waist and slammed our bodies together as I heard him grunt softly on impact, his hand still trapped around my cock between us; I had to feel those impertinent, soft, full lips against mine as I reached up with my other hand to grab his neck and roughly push our mouths together to anchor his slighter form tightly against mine. I heard Justin whimper in the back of his throat like a beast had been awakened as I made an insistent demand to deepen the kiss. After waiting for what seemed like way too long, I felt his lips open under mine and my tongue greedily pressed inside for us to get much more reacquainted.

God, he tasted so good! He always did, though – so damn sweet like the finest wine. I never really figured out just what it was about Justin's kisses, but the sensation he engendered in me was strictly his and his alone – totally intoxicating and unique. I hadn't kissed any other man since he had laid out those damn unorthodox rules so long ago, but frankly I hadn't needed any other man's kisses, either – the feelings his sweet, passionate kisses invoked in me always took me to heights no one else ever could and I knew I would never find another person who made me feel the way that he did. Between his talented tongue and his lips caressing mine, and his hand now stroking my imprisoned cock tightly against us, I knew I could cum just from what he was doing to me and we were just getting started with our _fun_…

I reluctantly broke apart from our kiss, then, our lips making a soft, popping, suctioning noise as they separated; in the quiet of the metal building, I could hear our twin, echoing pants of breath and I could feel his heartbeat pounding along with mine as I slid my other arm from his neck to his waist to hold him close.

"Where's Gus?" I heard him unexpectedly say in the dark; leave it to Justin to be worried about my son in the throes of a hot make-out session. It was oddly sweet in a way, though, how he was always so concerned about him.

"He's fine," I assured him softly against his neck, which I was currently snacking on; I pressed down with my teeth briefly on his collarbone as he gasped while my hands slowly stroked his lower back, just itching to delve under the hem of his shirt to feel some hot, bare skin. "He's with Mikey and J.R.," I added in between nibbles, my tongue laving the bite with soothing licks of saliva. "I told Mikey to have a nice, long lunch and enjoy a ride or two so I could have a nice, long lunch and enjoy a ride, too." I heard Justin chuckle against my lips as I added, "They were eating corndogs by the way, but I think you've got them beat hands down when it comes to _proper technique_."

I could almost see Justin's smile of amusement in the inky darkness as he released his hold on my cock and placed his hands on my briefs to begin slowly pulling them down my legs; now we were finally getting somewhere, but it wasn't MY clothes I wanted discarded at the moment. "Well, I hope you haven't eaten yet," he purred in a decidedly seductive tone of voice that went straight to my already throbbing, much-neglected cock. I moaned loudly with desire, though, as my previous fantasy came to life and I felt the nails of those long-fingered artist's hands slowly, ever so slowly scraping up my thighs to finally cup my balls and lightly jiggle them in his fingers; it was a start, but not quite what I had I mind. "No, I think not," he decided for himself as he cradled them in the palm of his hands. I was so horny at that moment I would have sworn both balls were completely natural and fully functional as I slowly went out of my mind with crazed yearning for this beautiful, blond tormenter.

"Justin," I groaned out, uncaring how pathetic it sounded. "Will you fucking get _on_ with it?" I was going to give my little cock tease five more seconds to move on to a more critical part of my anatomy before I took matters into my own hands – literally; there was the urgent issue, though, of my partner still being way too overdressed for what _I _had in mind to do, however…

Apparently the little fucker wasn't quite done playing with me yet, however, as I felt him leaning in even closer and whispering silkily in my left ear, "You want me to suck you off, Brian? You want me to take my hot tongue and lick up and down that big dick like a nice, juicy lollipop? You want me to demonstrate my superb _corndog eating _skills on this?" He returned his talented right hand to my cock then, flicking some of the pre-cum onto his thumb and then using it to partially lubricate my shaft as he slowly began to expertly stroke it to even more painful hardness, giving it an occasional rough jerk. "Is that what you want, Brian? You want me to stroke you and swallow you deep until you can't take it anymore? You want me to lick up every drop from you until your cock is drained dry?"

I moaned. Where did that nervous, innocent little daredevil twink go so long ago? The one that let ME call all the shots? Apparently I had taught him very well, in addition to my little artiste having some unique, innate talents of his own because just the sound of that voice whispering in my ear and his expert ministrations on my dick were making me hot as hell and I was long past the boiling point. "YES!" I managed to hiss out, my breath ragged and shallow. "Do it, damn it! Then I'm going to fuck you until you go blind, you little shit!"

Normally whenever we made love or fucked, whether it was at home, in the backroom of Babylon or even in some frigid semi-trailer or a restaurant bathroom, there was always at least a sliver of light to help guide our movements. Here, however, in this total darkness, I had to rely on my other senses, and every movement, every sound and ever exquisite touch was heightened in this inky place and it made me even more aware of everything Justin was doing. His voice and his taunting touches were driving me insane as he said huskily, "Well, all you had to do was _say_ so." Finally, I felt him kneel down in front of me and dig into my thigh with his left hand as he placed his hot, wet mouth over just the tip of my dick and curled the fingers of his right hand around the base for leverage. "Ahhh," I groaned appreciatively at the much-longed for sensation. I couldn't see what he was doing below me, but I could certainly _feel_ it as he slowly took in more and more of my cock until finally, he was deep throating me. God, the wetness and the suction of that mouth! And when he began to hum something, _anything_, his lips vibrated around my cock and I couldn't take it anymore: I came with a loud, animalistic cry that echoed off the metallic walls of our own private fun house as I promptly shot an unbelievable amount of my cum into his talented little mouth. He expertly swallowed every drop as I held onto the top of his head, my hand fisted in his hair for support as I threatened to pull a large clump of it out of his head until he slowly rose to his feet, placing his hands on my waist as he leaned up to kiss me, the taste of our passion still on his tongue as we kissed deeply.

Our moans filled the air while we continued to kiss as Justin slid his hands around my waist, still fully dressed somehow, a fact that I was soon going to rectify – that is, as soon as my breathing returned to normal. My partner was without a doubt not only incredibly talented in artistic ability but also in some other key areas as well – no one had ever satisfied me the way that he did or knew my body as well, and I imagine they never would. Justin had totally spoiled me on anyone else, but I certainly wasn't complaining as long as he stayed by my side and gave me the type of attention I just received.

We held each other for several seconds until finally we broke apart and I nuzzled his neck to say, "Come on, let's check out the rest." I was anxious to find a suitable spot to continue our activity as I reached down blindly to locate Gus's giraffe, my shorts and briefs – no point in putting them back on, only to take them right back off, I reasoned – before I took his hand to walk deeper into the structure, unaware of exactly what we would encounter in our sightless state. But that was half the thrill of it, not knowing what we would encounter; that and having every touch intensified as I held Justin's hand in mine, marveling at the warmth and softness there.

As we walked about ten feet further into the closed fun house, I could feel us stepping onto a different-type of metal flooring – whereas the previous floor had been smooth, this one was peppered with small, hard bumps of some kind; our weight on it must have triggered some sort of motor, because as soon as we both stepped on it, we were instantly bombarded by a loud mechanical banging sound immediately ahead of us; as I reached out with my other hand to the side I located a cold, smooth metal bar running along the wall; I grasped it for balance as I held onto Justin firmly with my other hand to keep him from falling on the uneven surface. Fortunately I took hold of the railing just in time, because Justin, who was slightly ahead of me, cried out in surprise and I felt him beginning to fall.

"Brian! Shit! Watch out!" he called out in warning as I felt the floor beneath me suddenly undulating up and down like we were walking on an earthquake fault and I held onto the railing like a life raft. The floor was roiling like some giant wave as I yelled at Justin to try and grab onto the railing beside him. He must have found it, because I felt him slowly progressing ahead of me through the uneven metal floor until finally, we found ourselves back on solid, unmoving ground again. I could hear him sigh in relief as I joined him and the clanging noise stopped, bathing the room again in an eerie sort of relative silence.

"Tell me again whose idea it was to have some _fun _in the fun house," he groused next to me, his breathing coming out as a sort of wheezing noise. "Because that part was definitely NOT fun, Brian."

I couldn't help laughing softly at his pitiful-sounding voice as I placed my hands reassuringly on his shoulders from behind and nuzzled his neck in apology. "No, I guess not," I admitted in his ear. "But the _next_ part will be," I added as I got a sudden inspiration; all I had to do was convince Justin to go along with it. I nipped at his earlobe, right where I knew he liked it, feeling his shoulders relaxing somewhat in my hold as I turned him around. I reached down to grasp the hem of his sleeveless shirt as he lifted his hands to allow me to pull it off, finally giving me access to his soft, warm skin that I had been craving for hours now. I dropped his shirt to the floor and hastily pulled my own off as I reached down to urgently unbutton his shorts, finding immense satisfaction in how quickly I could divest him of the rest of his clothing as he obligingly stepped out of them; his briefs and sandals followed shortly afterward. I couldn't wait to curl my fingers around his cock and give it a couple of tugs as I heard him groan in appreciation. My own cock was getting hard once more as I told him mysteriously, "I've got an idea."

"What?" I heard him ask warily. "If it's your cock in my ass, I've been there, done that, Brian."

I chuckled. "Well, that's part of it, but let's just say it's a variation on fucking that we haven't tried before."

He snorted, knowing that we pretty much had tried every anatomical position we could by now, but we had never something quite like this... "Now THAT I've got to see," he said skeptically. "IF I could see, that is."

I laughed again. "Come over here," I told him as I found his hand and began to lead him back over toward the wild and crazy floor we have just navigated across with great effort.

"Are you fucking insane?" he growled at me in disbelief as he realized where we going and tried to pull away from me. "I almost broke my _neck_ on that thing!"

I squeezed his hand reassuringly. "Just hold onto the railing again and we'll go for a _nice little ride_," I assured him, my voice coming out as a sort of encouraging purr. "Let me – and the floor – do all the work." I leaned down and managed to find my shorts, locating the lubricated condom in one of the pockets as I straightened back up. I tore the packet open with my teeth and quickly sheathed myself in preparation, my pulse speeding up in anticipation over what we were about to try.

"You're crazy," I heard him say again, but I could detect just a hint of excitement in his tone of voice as he, too, began to wonder if this might be quite an interesting experience with the differences in our height. "Okay," he finally murmured a little nervously as he slowly inched back over to our "floor of doom" ride as I followed closely behind, holding tightly onto his hand as I reached out and found the railing again. We stepped onto the activation plate and the clanging started back up. Before stepping back onto the crazily-moving floor I tried to get my balance as I grasped the round metal bar. "Come on, Sunshine, time to take you on a thrill ride," I told him as he slowly navigated his way back onto the gyrating floor. I helped guide his one hand over to the railing and waited a few seconds until I heard him say over the noise, "I hope you know what you're doing..." He still sounded a little doubtful but also a breathless with anticipation as the metal floor clattered and swayed again and I lined up by body behind him, twining my fingers with his on the railing as I steered my cock to his twitching hole with my other hand.

As the floor rocked side to side, my body suddenly lurched forward against Justin and I found my cock instantly rammed into his tight little pucker up to the hilt in one swift stroke, much faster and rougher than I could have normally done by myself. _My God. _The feeling was indescribable; it was both feral and powerful in its intensity. I heard Justin cry out at the abrupt, sudden intrusion as I worried over whether it was from pain or the incredible sensation of my cock plunged suddenly into his wonderfully tight ass. "You all right?" I struggled to say as my body continued to rock in and out of him violently like a ship in a perfect storm; I reached to clamp my other hand over the railing with his to steady us as I continued to pump in and out of him.

I felt like my body was totally out of my control as I pulled back in time with the floor's shaking and then rammed back in on the upstroke, my thrusts perfectly timed with the swaying of its movements. With the way the floor was constructed, our bodies were angled perfectly to deliver the utmost in pleasure for both of us as I finally heard Justin speak. "Brian!" I heard him struggling to say my name as I gripped his fingers tightly; I'm sure they would have been white if I could have only seen them. "Fuck; oh, fuck! This is, this is _unbelievable_!"

He continued to chant my name and groan as my body slammed against his ass violently and my cock plunged in and quickly back out like a well-greased fucking machine, the movement of the floor helping my momentum and hitting his prostate on every stroke perfectly. I heard him continue to moan my name and some unintelligible words I couldn't understand as I grunted back at him in response; the emotions coursing through me didn't allow for anything more comprehensible at the moment. The sweat pouring from our bodies and into our hands from the exertion made the railing slippery as I continued to slide in and out of my own little piece of heaven and we hung on for dear life.

Unfortunately, it was all over way too soon as I felt Justin's ass muscles clenching around my dick and his whole body tense up against mine as he cried out my name one last time and collapsed against the railing in a boneless, spineless heap; the sounds of my lover falling over the edge and the tightening of his muscles around my dick as he came were enough to send me climaxing, too, with an explosive cry and my sated, exhausted body draped itself over his against the railing, our hands still tightly clasped together for support and balance as I struggled to control my breathing amidst the rollicking surface beneath us.

I nuzzled his sweaty neck, feeling his body literally shaking from the rapid beating of his heart as I licked some of the salty taste with my tongue and he shivered against me from the aftereffects of our fucking. "Shit, Justin," I murmured in awe, not sure if he could really hear as I found it hard to adequately come up with the right words to explain the way I was feeling; the whole experience was almost impossible to describe. I had assumed the back and forth, uneven movement of the floor would heighten our pleasure and put us on more of an even playing surface height-wise, but fuck; that had been one of the hottest experiences that I had ever had. "That… That was fucking hot, Sunshine," I exclaimed breathlessly in appreciation against his ear. I moved our hands closer together on the railing until I was holding onto his slender body tightly against mine for protection from falling off before I finally managed to say, "Come on – time to get off this crazy ride." I felt him turn shakily back the way we had come as he slowly inched ahead of me, no doubt making sure his grip on the railing didn't loosen to keep him from failing as we gradually made our way back to more stable ground nearby.

We thankfully reached a more solid part of the floor soon afterward and the cacophonous clanging ceased as I reached down and with some difficulty, located what I hoped was all of our hastily-discarded clothing and Gus's treasured giraffe as we made our way several feet away from the uneven floor; we were practically staggering as we both collapsed in a heap onto the ground, sitting Indian-style on top of our previously-discarded clothes, the hardness of the metal surface not the most comfortable place to rest, but it was all we had. I could feel his knee touching mine beside me as I reached over and cupped one of his cheeks in the darkness and he leaned into my touch; in the inky blackness I could still feel the softness, the warmth there on his face as I reached up to sweep some sweaty bangs away from his brow. I didn't have to have illumination to know that if I _could_ see at that moment, I would surely find his captivating blue eyes locked on mine as I heard him whisper breathlessly, "Shit, Brian, you're trying to kill me here."

"Gives a whole new meaning to the words _trick floor_, doesn't it?" I wisecracked as I dropped my hand onto his knee, my breath still coming out in heavy pants. I held my other hand out in front of me, still amazed that this portable structure we were in could be so airtight that it was black as a cave inside. "I can't see six inches in front of me," I told Justin.

"I know," Justin responded, still a little out of breath himself but his voice was a little stronger-sounding now. "Neither can I." He took an inhale of breath before adding, "But you know, I could still paint every inch of you perfectly, even in pitch darkness. I know every contour of your body by now," he said softly, sounding just a bit embarrassed. "I could practically paint you in my sleep."

"That would make for a _differen_t kind of messy bed sheet, Sunshine," I quipped as he slapped my thigh in response. "But after that last drawing you made, I think you might need to work on your scaling proportions," I quipped as I remembered the huge head he had placed on my body. My other hand dropped down to the cold, hard ground beneath us as it brushed against the curled-up "masterpiece" Justin had insisted on coloring for me earlier. "By the way, Mr. Taylor, I'm glad we could make good use of one of those packets you included in my sketch, but I don't recall having them hanging out of my pocket like some sort of condom sausage."

I heard him laugh softly in amusement. "I used a little artistic license," he admitted readily. "They weren't visible, but I knew they were there just the same. At least, I was _hoping_ so."

I reached in the darkness to find his hand next to me and linked our fingers together to give them a squeeze. "Well, I guess you DO know me well by now." We sat there for a minute or so in companionable silence until I let out one, last deep, reluctant breath, knowing we couldn't stay in here forever but hating to leave our own little secret hideout from the rest of the crazy world just outside the door.

I slowly rose to my feet and sighed in resignation. "As much as I'd like nothing better than to continue fucking your brains out in here, I think we'd better get going. I'm sure Mikey's wondering where I ran off to by now and he's probably tearing his hair out with two kids to take care of. I forgot to mention to him that Gus tends to throw up on certain kinds of rides, too, especially after he's eaten. Fortunately, though, he didn't inherit that problem from me…"

I heard Justin laugh as I pulled him to his feet. "You _forgot to mention it_? Not very likely. But," I heard him say with a husky tone of voice as he leaned in to whisper in my ear, "If I remember correctly, I don't think you've HAD the chance to _eat_ yet."

_Shit_. I licked my lips and my breath hitched at the thought of rimming that perky, tight little ass that I had just fucked to within an inch of its life and sticking my tongue deep inside. I remember the very first night when I had given Justin a physical demonstration of what both had involved, and as soon as he had loudly vocalized his appreciation over my stellar efforts, I had loved his reaction. It wasn't that I hadn't _always_ enjoyed a little ass play with tricks – not that he was ever a trick – but with Justin I fucking LOVE it; I love the way he makes those little mews of pleasure and groans of ecstasy each time I do it, I love the way he always tries to arch himself up off the bed for better penetration, I love the softness of his skin just below the small of his back, I love the shape of his body's contours, and I simply love the intoxicating taste and smell of him.

I slid my arms around his lower back and then onto said ass, firmly cupping those perfectly-rounded, soft curves of flesh as I considered Justin's very tempting 'offer.' How could I turn down something so inviting? "You're right – I am feeling downright _ravenous _all of a sudden," I decided with a husky growl as I began to knead his buttocks like it was two delicious mounds of freshly-baked bread. I couldn't help reaching in to poke one of my middle fingers inside tentatively as he jumped in reaction, bumping his shoulder into the wall nearby. Suddenly, a bank of overhead track lights flashed on and we both blinked as if we had just exited a darkened theater into bright sunlight.

"What the fuck?" I asked as we were suddenly bathed in illumination; I could finally see all around us clearly, and realized I had been correct – we were standing in a narrow, metal, windowless corridor, approximately 20 feet from the infamous uneven sidewalk where we had just had our mind-blowing fucking session. The corridor stretched out about a dozen feet more ahead of us, then disappeared around a curve in the wall.

I glanced down at Justin, noticing for the first time his messy hair, flushed face and kiss-swollen lips, thinking he looked absolutely delicious. _Ravenous indeed_… I must have broadcast my impression loud and clear, because his face reddened even more over my scrutiny as I smirked at him. Noticing the light switch behind him and realizing what must have happened, I quipped, "Well, leave it to Sunshine to find us some light."

I looked around, noticing with interest now a light blue, slightly-worn, quilted, fabric tarp folded up against the wall. _Well, well, well… our own little fuck pad_. I let go of Justin to grab our clothes from the floor and walk over to pick up the tarp. Returning to take his hand in mine, I began to pull him toward the other end of the fun house, hoping to find a nice, wide spot to recline on as I told him, "Come on, Mr. Taylor, it's time for my tongue to take a trip through your _Tunnel of Love_."

Justin snorted at my attempt at humor as he realized exactly what I had in mind; he willingly followed me through the narrow corridor like an obedient puppy dog waiting to be fed his favorite snack bone. As we rounded the curved pathway, my eyes widened in delight at the unexpected sight – this was much better than I could have hoped for, because we were emerging into a hexagonal-shaped room that was completely covered with mirrors; neon lights in a rainbow of colors were alit from one end of the room to the other, highlighting the seemingly never-ending room in a sort of playground atmosphere – an _adult_ playground...

I let go of Justin's hand to unfurl the tarp out in front of us like a flag as it floated gently down to the ground; our clothes were promptly thrown onto the floor once more in a neglected heap along with the giraffe as I knelt on the tarp and reached up to pull him down with me. As I looked over at Justin, my heartbeat sped up; I always salivated at the sight of Justin's creamy little bubble butt but at the moment I was looking at _four_ of them, surrounding me and all seemingly winking back at me for attention. And from the hungry look on Justin's face, I got the distinct impression that he was willing for me to do anything to _all_ of them.

He accepted my hand and knelt down facing me as I reached behind his neck and pulled his lips roughly to mine. Never breaking our kiss, I pushed him down gently to lie on his back as I continued to plunder his mouth with my lips and tongue, our hands caressing everywhere as our cocks ground together and we rubbed against each other like two horny cats. I knew between Justin's vocal moans of pleasure and the exquisite sensation of his body against mine, if we didn't stop soon I would cum like an inexperienced, giddy teenager right between our bellies, and I wanted more… Much more.

I pried my lips from his as I demanded hotly against his neck, "Roll over." I felt him shiver slightly at the authoritative tone in my voice as I twisted my body off him to the side to enable him to do as I asked. As he turned over onto his stomach, he cradled his head on top of his pale folded arms and looked over to me and grinned.

"What?"

"I'm just enjoying the view," he replied, as his neck craned around to look at our room. "It's like seeing Brian Kinney in 4-D. Does that mean you're going to fuck me four times now?"

I used one of my knees to push his legs wider apart as I knelt in between them. Bracing my arms to either side of his slender frame, I leaned down so that my leaking, aching cock was slowly brushing against the sensitive skin of his back and my mouth was inches away from the delicate curve of his shoulders. "Well, you and the other three Taylors will just have to take turns, won't they?" I quipped as I bit down hard on his shoulder and he gasped as his body twitched in anticipation. "I'm tired of being told to go to the back of the line – it's MY turn now." With that, I flattened my tongue and began to lick a wide, wet trail tauntingly down the crease of his back, watching as some sweat trickled from his neck. I paused to lick up some of the saltiness that pooled at his lower spine before continuing my journey toward the crease in his ass cheeks. From the angle of the side mirrors, and the one mounted on the ceiling, I had a unique view of my 'meal' and I had to say, it was one fine-looking treat. Justin was quickly becoming a simpering, mindless mess beneath me, squirming in barely-controlled anticipation as my hands slowly traveled lower next to his body and finally came to rest on either side of his ass as I paused for a couple of seconds to indulge in swirling my tongue around the delightfully puckered hole.

Justin's entire body shivered as I rose up on my knees and grasped his ass cheeks firmly to pull them apart and provide me with greater access to my goal. I paused just above the rounded globes to inhale the unique, musky scent of my lover, blowing warm air over the winking hole as he writhed beneath me. "You like that?" I rasped out; he yelled out in part pain/part desire when I couldn't resist giving the left, fleshy ass cheek a nip with my teeth. "That's for being such a cheeky little shit earlier," I told him.

He lurched as I raised my hand above his other cheek and he felt the stinging smack of my palm. I straddled his lower legs to keep him from moving away as his upper body bucked off the floor.

"What the fuck, Brian?" he cried out in surprise as he twisted his head to try and look up at me.

I snickered. "Couldn't help myself; you were very naughty earlier. But I know how to make it all _better_." I leaned down and gave it a long swipe of my tongue, laving it over and over until I meandered back over to his pucker and thrust my rolled tongue inside, hearing a yelp at the intrusion. I chuckled against his skin as I swirled my tongue around inside for good measure before finally pulling back out. "Hmm… You have excellent taste, Mr. Taylor," I whispered against his flesh. "But I think it might be time for the main course now." I reached over to my shorts pocket to snag another package from the 'condom sausage' and rip it with my teeth, still holding Justin down with one hand on his lower back. Not that I thought he was going anywhere – I knew he was as raring to go as I was.

My rock-hard cock fully sheathed with lubricated latex, I reached down with both hands to grab his waist and pull him up to rise on all fours. As I linked our fingers together with one hand, we both happened to lift our gazes to look out in front of us, finding our sweat-soaked bodies staring back at us with identical looks of hunger, lust and desire; as I gazed into several editions of Justin's slender, contorted body, his ass sticking up in the air and his hard, purplish cock standing at full attention while my own larger frame loomed over him in full predatory mode, I thought it was the most incredible thing I had ever seen.

"Shit, Justin, we're so fucking hot together," I growled as we drunk in the multi-faceted views of each other through the mirrors displaying us from every angle; I nipped at his lower ear before, not wanting to wait a second longer, I lined up my throbbing cock and pushed through the first ring of tight muscle, linking Justin's other hand tightly in mine as I waited a few seconds for him to adjust, but barely able to control my urgency to go deeper and deeper, to possess every delectable inch of what was mine. All it took was for my lover to rock back against me and whisper urgently, "God, Brian, _More_," and I gladly accommodated him, plunging in deeper and harder and angling my body upward as he pushed back against me for deeper penetration. We began to hump each other furiously, almost violently, as we rocked back and forth like a violent wave, our bodies glistening with the straining of our effort under the hot, bright, neon lights. I let go of one hand to begin jerking his cock roughly as his breath quickly picked up speed and he began to keen from my efforts, becoming more and more vocal as I began to hit his sweet spot expertly.

As we continued to fuck, each whimper, each loud groan from Justin drove me quietly insane while my body tightened, craving release; I knew from the rigidness of my lover's body under me that he was about to cum as he screamed out my name one last time and promptly exploded beneath me, his entire body shaking from the sensation as his milky liquid spewed all over our hands. I pumped into him urgently a couple more times before, I, too, shuddered and my body climaxed, filling the condom to capacity. With what little strength I still possessed, I gently pulled him back with me as I raised us up on our knees to prop his body against mine, watching fascinated in one of the mirrors as I brought our two hands up to my mouth and opened my lips to suck on some of his fingers to steal a taste, feeling like a sort of decadent voyeur to someone else's pleasure.

I brought our hands down to rest against his waist as I slid my other one around to join them, resting him tightly against me as our bodies heaved from our exertion. I couldn't take my eyes off Justin in the mirror, his entire upper torso fully exposed to my open admiration from head to cock; he wore the 'debauched and totally fucked look' very well, I decided, as Justin wearily leaned his head back to rest on my shoulder and I nuzzled his cheek against mine. "If I didn't know better, Mr. Taylor," I murmured with a certain amount of pride, "I'd say I just wore your tight little ass out… Or should I say _asses_."

I heard him take in an exhausted breath and let it out before pointing out, "None of you look too peppy, either, at the moment, _Mr. Kinney_." He smiled at me in the mirror as I smirked in agreement, because it was true – I was currently feeling fully and totally sated – ALL of me. I continued to stare the multiple images of us, Justin wrapped firmly in my embrace, remembering how amazing it had been to watch us fucking. _God… What a mind-blowing experience, even after all this time_, kept echoing through my brain. I think if it hadn't been for my son I could have stayed there forever, just admiring the view in front of me, but I knew I couldn't. I looked at Justin in the mirror one more time and gave him another nip on his ear, right where he was the most sensitive, before whispering, "I guess our playtime really _is_ over this time; I've got to get back to Gus."

He nodded at me a little sadly. "Yeah… And I've got to work the rest of the afternoon; that is, if I'm able to _walk_ now."

I reached over to pull up one corner of the tarp to wipe off our sticky hands as best I could and slowly rose to my feet, pulling Justin up with me as I turned him around to face me, my arms sliding around his waist as he placed his around my neck and gazed up at me in a sort of blue-eyed, glazed half-stupor. "Well, you've now been well fed and well fucked, so you should have no complaints."

He tugged playfully at the hair on the back of my neck. "That's not what I said – I said you might have to carry me back to the tent due to extreme ass injury."

I snorted as I smacked him again on this ass, a little more gently this time; after all, the man was 'damaged' enough at the moment. "Ain't happening, Sunshine. You'll just have to limp back under your own power, Princess; I've got a son to go find and a best friend to grovel to for leaving him with a vomit machine. I've seen _enough_ of your many admirers today to last me for a while now."

"I do seem to attract them, don't I?" He said smugly. "Just like a moth to a flame." His mouth curled up in amusement in one corner as he broke from our embrace to bend over, with his ass facing me, of course, no doubt just to torment me, and picked up his briefs and shorts, pulling them up his slender legs and fastening them. He grabbed his maroon, sleeveless shirt and pulled it over his head, once more looking like the professional little artist of before. Sliding his pale feet into his sandals, he walked back over to me to lean up on his tiptoes and place a firm, wet kiss on my mouth, promising more 'thrill rides' to come later.

"Well, just don't get too close to that flame, or you may get burned," I warned him as he smiled back at me, enjoying my _I-don't-do-jealousy _shtick. We both knew that was a crock of shit, though. I shook my head at him over his know-it-all look as I, too, reached to pick up my briefs and shorts to slide them up my legs and zip them up, the brown shirt soon joining them. I grimaced at the thought of putting my now blue-and-brown sandals back on, but it was either that or walk across the pimpled, metal floor on my bare feet. Reluctantly, then, I slid them back on, finally gathering up Gus's giraffe. "Shit," I muttered in realization as it hit me. "I gave away Gus's goldfish." I would have to find another way to replace them or Gus would be devastated.

Justin laughed at my predicament. "Well, better warm up your free throw arm, then, Kobe Bryant." I glared at him before, unable to resist, I grasped the front of his shirt and pulled him against me to wipe that impertinent look off his mouth.

Several seconds later I released his swollen lips with a resounding pop as he stumbled back several inches as I let him go before he managed to catch his balance.

"What time can you leave today, Picasso?"

"About 4. Why? You want to try _another_ kind of ride when I get off?"

I curled my lips under in amusement. "Don't tempt me, Sunshine, I have a child here, remember? No cheap thrills for him until he's at least 10."

Justin rolled his eyes, knowing full well I was shitting him. "Oh, how stupid of me."

I sighed dramatically as if the thought of spending more time with him would be a major chore. "Well, I suppose Gus and I _could_ give you a lift home since you took the bus out here. It's mainly for his benefit, though, you understand; he's kind of grown attached to you for some reason." _He's not the ONLY one_…

"Of course," he agreed solemnly as we walked toward what appeared to be the way out; I yelped, however, and Justin chortled loudly as I ran smack dab into a hard wall of glass instead. "What the fuck?" I snarled as I rubbed my forehead at the point of impact.

"I don't think that's the way out," Justin helpfully supplied, clamping his hand over his mouth in what I suspiciously surmised was an attempt to avoid laughing at me.

"No shit," I groused as I began to feel around the identical mirrored walls. I glared over at Justin, who was standing there looking highly amused. I crossed my hands over my chest in exasperation. "Well, are you going to help me or not?"

Justin walked over to me. It was probably hard to take me seriously with a giraffe under my arm, but I thought it was still no excuse to look so pleased with himself. "Well, YOU were the one who pulled me away from my job and dragged me in here," he pointed out. "I was just going about my business when you _kidnapped_ me!"

I snorted. "Kidnapped you, my ass! Or should I say YOUR ass; I didn't hear YOU complaining." I looked around, highly annoyed. "Just help me find a way out of his fucking puzzle or we'll have to go back the way we came in."

"Hell, no!" he growled. "I'm not going back through _that_ again! With or without light!"

"What a drama queen," I quipped. "And I was even agreeable to fucking you again on the way out just to make it more palatable. Well, if that won't work, you'll have to find exit out of here for us."

"Sure thing, Alice in Wonderland," he quipped as I rolled my eyes. I watched, curious, as he stood there for a few moments, apparently studying our predicament, before he walked far too confidently for my taste over to the far left wall and promptly disappeared behind it. I watched, my mouth hanging open in amazement, as he whipped his head back around the side after a few seconds. "Well, are you coming? Don't say it," he quickly added as he realized what he had said; I made a motion as if I were zipping my lips shut in response.

"How the fuck did you DO that?" I had to ask, not seeing any difference at all between that wall and the solid one I had just crashed into.

"You've never been in a house of mirrors before, have you?" he asked with a sly grin.

I walked up to face him. "No, but if I'd known how hot you looked while I was fucking your brains out, I would have definitely entertained the notion a lot earlier." I noticed the pink tinge rise to his cheeks as I asked, "Again, how did you know, Einstein?"

Justin huffed in amazement over my irritation. "For someone who's so intelligent, I can't believe you didn't figure it out." He lowered his gaze to the metal ground. "Duh; all you have to do is look down at the floor – you can tell right away where the walls are and where they aren't."

I sheepishly lowered my gaze as I experienced an embarrassed moment of epiphany; _who would think to look at the floor for a fucking wall_? "Well, thank you, Mr. Civil Engineer," I snarked as I lifted my eyes to see Justin smiling back at me smugly. _Little shit_…

He took my hand. "Well, I'd better hold onto your hand so you don't get lost on the way out," he intoned as he began to pull me along, apparently not trusting that I could manage to get out on my own power. As we weaved our way through the zigzag maze of glass, the brightly-colored puzzle eventually ended at another one of the submarine-like doors that we had first encountered when we entered. As Justin turned the wheel to the left to unlock it and slowly swing it open, we were once more blinded again momentarily, but this time it was from the bright sunlight streaming in from the outside, not from artificial lighting.

The heat from the day immediately assaulted us again like an electric blanket as we stepped back out onto the paved pathway leading back towards the midway. It was as if nothing had changed; there were the same raucous sounds from the calliope music, the same shouts and shrieks from ride goers – although I had to admit, it sounded a lot like the same type of sounds we had emitted ourselves during our _own_ unique thrill ride – and the same nasty smells from all the fried food and the penned-up farm animals. Well, there was _one_ difference – I no longer had this insatiable, unreasonable ache in my body for a certain blond's attention, and my muscles were stiff and abused from our antics in the funhouse. But it had most definitely been worth it – ALL of it, and while it hadn't eliminated my constant craving for some blond boy ass – a _certain_ blond boy's ass – it had at least assuaged it for the time being.

I placed my hand lightly around Justin's shoulder as we glanced around to make sure no one had noticed us emerging from a closed attraction, but fortunately no one seemed to pay us any mind. Slowly we walked back down the exit path a few feet until we were once again caught up in the bustling fair crowd. We wound up coming out right in front of the Fried Alligator Fritter stand, of all places, as Justin's ice-blue eyes lit up with excitement.

"I've been _wanting_ to try some of that!" he told me in delight as he started to eagerly move toward it; I barely had time to reach out and hook him by the collar to prevent him from making a heinous mistake as he struggled to free himself. "Bri-an," he whined back at me as he finally gave up fighting and just stood there directly in front of me, my hand still firmly attached to the shirt's neck as he reached his hands up to his neck to try and pry himself loose. "I'm still hungry!"

I snorted as I leaned in to whisper in his ear, "Between the corn dog and my cock, you've been fed _more_ than enough, Crocodile Dundee. NO fried alligator fritters for you – not if you want my cock back in your ass later on." Just the thought of tasting Justin's cum seasoned with just a hint of fried alligator later left a sour taste in my mouth; I likened it to drinking unpasteurized milk from cows that had been grazing out in fields filled with wild onions.

"What makes you think that I _will_?" was the saucy reply.

I smiled against his neck. "Because I know you," I growled. "And my cock is your favorite food." I nuzzled his neck briefly as I felt him relaxing somewhat against me; it was then that I knew who was going to come out victorious in this particular battle. "Now you be a good little boy and go back to work; I'm sure there's a legion of fans awaiting your triumphant return, _Princess_." Although I had to admit, after the 'fans' I had seen waiting for him earlier, I wasn't quite sure it was best to leave him alone, but I had to locate my son before he managed to puke up every treat he had probably been able to wheedle out of my best friend while I was gone.

He turned around to face me with a conceited sort of grin on his face as I grasped his upper arms. "Maybe you're right; it _would_ be rude to keep so many men waiting. Who knows? Maybe I'll find one that will want to take me out tonight and treat me to a gourmet meal. You know the way to my heart is through my stomach."

I rolled my eyes at his impertinence. "I thought it was through your _ass_," I pointed out as he stuck his tongue out at me maturely. "Well, if you DO happen to get _fed_, just make sure you don't make a lot of noise tonight when you come back to the loft; I might be doing a little feasting _myself_ by then." He snorted at that; apparently realizing, as I knew he would, that I had no intention of replacing him –now or ever.

"Well, I'll try to control myself," he decided as I smirked back at him good-naturedly.

I couldn't resist pulling him closer to bestow a quick kiss on his petulant lips as I growled softly in his ear, "Just see that you keep business separate from pleasure, Mr. Taylor. Think of that injured child you're trying to help."

We broke apart as he licked his lips in amusement. "Spoilsport," he chastised me.

I said, "Well, speaking of _injured children_, I'd better go find Gus – he may have turned a puking shade of green by now from too much Fried Kool-Aid, funnel cakes, cotton candy, and who-knows what. He can't handle his corndogs as well as YOU can, either."

He laughed. "No, I guess not." He sighed, apparently reluctant to leave; I could certainly sympathize, too, because I was feeling the same way. "Where do you want to meet up later when I'm done?" he asked me.

"Well, if you can turn yourself away from your adoring fans, we can meet over by the front gate."

Justin nodded. "Okay; that would probably be the easiest place to spot you and Gus. Are Michael and J.R. coming along, too?"

I knew that Justin and Michael still weren't quite buddy-buddy and probably never would be; but at least over the years their occasional acrimonious relationship had eventually turned into more of a cordial one. They would still never be best friends but at least they were both now firmly entrenched in the roles for which they were meant to play – Michael as my best friend and Justin as my soulmate.

"No," I told him, noticing just the hint of relief on his face. "He and J.R. came separately; they'll be driving home separately."

He nodded again and turned to go. "Okay – then I'll meet you by the front gate around four."

I gave him a tender smile, already hating that we had to part, even if it _was_ for just a couple of hours. I reached over briefly to ruffle the back of his hair gently. "I'll see you a little later, then," I told him softly. He returned my smile with one of his own and nodded before slowly walking way, back toward the caricature tent.


	5. What a Thrill:  Conclusion

_Four O'clock – Inside the Front Gate_

"Jus'n!" I turned at the sound of my son's excited shriek as I noticed his face light up with excitement. Justin squatted down on his knees nearby in the thinning crowd and I let my little brunet dynamo's hand go, watching as he ran full-tilt toward my partner who promptly scooped him and stood up, cradling my son in his arms as he smiled affectionately back at him.

"How you doing, Little Man?" I heard him say as Gus gave him a big hug and wrapped his little arms around his neck; my heart did a flip flop at the tender scene playing out before me. It was obvious that Justin and my son both loved each other dearly, just as much as I loved them; I was always impressed with how inventive Justin was with Gus when it came to playing games with him, whether it was drawing one-of-a-kind game boards for them to play with or building forts out of the most unexpected items, like using one of his easels as the roof of a fort, with my 600-count sheets for the walls, no less. My son simply adored him and the feeling was mutual when it came to my partner as well. All in all, it worked out perfectly for all of us, because I couldn't imagine being with a man who didn't also accept my son wholeheartedly.

My two favorite boys walked over to me as I heard Justin ask Gus, "What's that red stuff around your mouth, Buddy?" He reached inside to pluck a napkin out of his shorts pocket and gently wipe some of the residue away as he smiled down at him in amusement.

"Uncle Mikey bought me some Fried Kool-Aid," he proudly reported with a smile as I shook my head in aggravation and Justin chuckled at my pained expression. "And look!" he exclaimed as he stuck out a blue tongue as proof. "He got me some Blue Moon Ice Cream, too!"

Justin pursed his lips together to keep from laughing as he glanced over at me to say, "I think your Dad might have had some of that earlier, too." I glared back at him in return as he held Gus firmly in his arms; the whole scene looked so damned domestic, but it still brought an unexpected lump to my throat just the same.

"Did you see my fish, Jus'n?" Gus asked my partner excitedly. I was once more grasping a Ziploc bag in my hand as two goldfish swam inside; it had cost me ten dollars and a sore arm – that damn ring-over-the-bottle game was a lot harder than it had looked – but I had finally managed to snag three bottles with the plastic rings and thankfully walk away victorious with two replacements for Gus's previous 'pets.' Armed now with his new fish and the ever-present giraffe tucked under my other arm, I was now able to make my exit with a clear conscience, a happy son, and a well-fucked partner.

Justin looked over at me with a quizzical, arched brow as I gave him a look that said _don't ask_ before he responded. "Yes, I see them, Buddy! Have you picked out names for them yet?"

As we began to walk toward the exit gates, Gus nodded excitedly. "Uh, huh," he said with a solemn look on his face like it was the most important responsibility in the world; after all, it wasn't every day that you received two new editions to the family. "The big one is Rocky, and the little one is Sunshine, just like you, Jus'n."

I smiled as I noticed Justin's eyes glistening with the beginning of sentimental tears; _sappy little twat_, I thought, but inside I was thrilled that my son loved Justin so much he would want to name something so precious after him. I wasn't nearly as emotional over it as Justin was being, but it still filled me with an inexplicable sense of warmth nonetheless.

"I'm honored, Gus," my partner managed to croak out before he cleared his throat. We locked gazes briefly before the two of us lined up single file to exit through the narrow turnstiles and emerge into a large, grassy area that served as a temporary parking lot during the event; I looked over as Justin, who bounced Gus up in the air to perch him on top of his shoulders as my son giggled in delight, causing emotion to well up inside me.

"I see you still have your little friend," Justin observed with a smirk, nodding his head at the irrepressible giraffe that I had somehow managed to hold onto through our earlier dalliances. I knew if I _hadn't_, though, I would have risked even more trauma than losing the goldfish; that giraffe had a prized spot just waiting for him – or her – on top of Gus's bed at home.

I reached inside my pocket. "You mean this?" I held up one of the condom packets.

Justin snorted as Gus bobbed happily up and down on his shoulders, no doubt feeling like a ruler of the world at the moment. "Not that," he said, rolling his eyes with just the hint of a laugh. "You know what I mean."

I curled my lips under. "Oh… The _giraffe_."

Gus piped up just then. "That's _mine_, Jus'n! Daddy won him for me!"

"Uh… Gus…"

"He did?" Justin said as I cringed inside, knowing I was about to regret the direction in which their conversation was about to head. "How did he do that?" He glanced over at me, almost daring me to speak as I turned my head away, looking anywhere but into his curious eyes.

"Some lady guessed how much he weighed and how old he was," Gus told him as I grimaced at the memory.

Justin laughed softly, clearly enjoying himself at my expense. "She did? Did she guess right? Is that how he won the giraffe?" _Little shit_… _He had to know that's not how the game was played; at least not THAT game._

Justin tilted his head back to gaze up into my son's eyes; he turned to look at me briefly before Gus helpfully supplied, "No, Jus'n." He had this look on his face like he was teaching some recalcitrant pupil in proper game etiquette as he explained, "She guessed _wrong_. She said Daddy weighed a lot more than he did and she said he was older."

"Now, wait just a minute, Sonny Boy," I couldn't help sputtering out indignantly as I interrupted; I was neither old NOR overweight, thank you very much. But it was as if my child had selective hearing, because he simply ignored me as he and my lover proceeded to have a private conversation amongst themselves as we slowly made our way toward my car.

I shook my head as I heard Justin say innocently, "Oh, she did, huh? And how much did she say he weighed?"

I watched as my son scrunched up his face in concentration for a few seconds before he said hesitantly, "I forgot exactly; but I think she said he weighed 270."

I almost gagged. "No, she did NOT, Gus!" I retorted as Justin burst out laughing. "She said ONE seventy."

Justin beamed in glee over the look on my face, clearing enjoying himself immensely as he said, "That _did_ seem a little high for you." The veins on my neck stood out as I heard him say to Gus, "What about his age, Buddy? How old did she say he was?"

"Oh, I _remember_ that," Gus confidently told him to my consternation. _Of course he would remember my age_… "She said he was forty, but she was wrong; that's how Daddy won my giraffe!"

Justin guffawed loudly as I stared daggers at him, daring him to mock me, but it was no use; I never COULD control him. "Two seventy and forty years old," he said to me as we arrived at the car. "You sure have gone downhill in a hurry."

As I opened the door and Justin gently lowered Gus to stand next to him on the grass, I looked at him from across the roof of my black Jeep that I had kept for occasional use and said, "Well, let's just see how YOU look in a few years, _Mr. Eating Machine_. I for one will ALWAYS be young and gorgeous."

Justin rolled his eyes as he flipped the back part of the front passenger seat up so Gus could slide into the rear to sit on top of his booster seat. I opened the driver's side door and handed the giraffe to my son before getting in. "Here," I said, holding the baggie of goldfish out to Justin as he sat down on the passenger seat. "Seems only fitting that you hold your namesake and his friend," I told him, "especially after YOU were the reason I needed replacements." I lowered my voice so my son wouldn't overhear; as I glanced in the rearview-mirror, though, Gus seemed more interested in playing with his giraffe than listening to our less-than-adult-like conversation.

Justin looked at me like I had two heads as he buckled his seatbelt and grudgingly accepted the fish to place them on his lap as I started up the Jeep. "_I _was the reason?" he responded indignantly as if he hadn't heard me quite right. "If _someone_ hadn't been so horny and jealous before there wouldn't have BEEN a need for _replacements_."

"Minor semantics," I quipped as I slowly pulled out of our parking spot. "If you hadn't been here in the first place, playing the Good Queen Charity, none of this would have happened."

Justin snorted and his eyes flashed with exasperation as he pointed out, "Yeah, and none of what happened _afterward_ would have happened, either."

I was about to respond with the next round of our volley when I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Gus had stopped playing with his hard-worn prize and was eyeing Justin and me intently, no doubt wondering what in the hell we were talking about. As perceptive and smart as my son was, I'm sure he could tell we were disagreeing about _something_ – even though it was pretty ridiculous now that I thought about it – but thankfully he hadn't quite gotten to the stage yet where he knew what words like 'horny' and 'jealous' meant, and the rest of our conversation had been couched in rather obscure or metaphoric terms. I looked pointedly at Justin before nodding my head and shifting my eyes toward the back seat toward Gus.

As it got quiet in the Jeep, all of a sudden my son spoke up from the backseat. "Daddy," he said in a thoughtful tone of voice as he looked intently at the giraffe standing up in his lap, "My giraffe doesn't _have_ horns."

Justin snickered as I flashed a dirty look at him. "No, he doesn't," I told him agreeably, glancing over at Justin with a look meant to convey he'd better keep quiet, although normally that didn't have much of an effect on him. "Some animals have horns and some don't."

"And some are just plain horny…"

"Justin…"

Forty-five minutes later, we finally arrived back at the loft sans Gus, the goldfish, and the ever-present, _hornless_ giraffe, which my son had decided to go ahead and name Horny anyway, which should make his mothers quite proud of the influence I have on him. I swung the door open and instantly felt a huge sense of relief; what a fucking long day! Not that all of it had been especially bad, actually; in fact, some parts of it had been good; really, really GOOD…

"Where should we put this masterpiece?" I heard Justin say behind me as I walked over to the fridge and plucked out a bottle of water; even with the sun hanging low in the horizon now, it was still way too hot outside for my taste. At least here in the confines of my loft, it was cool and comfortable. "If we lived on a boat, we could put it in the 'head.' You know…, A big head for a head." He chuckled at his lame excuse for a joke as I took a large swig of my water and placed the plastic bottle down on the counter to walk over toward him, the rolled-up drawing held in his left hand. I was kind of hoping between our 'thrill rides' earlier and the subsequent events that we might have managed to misplace it, but just like the giraffe and the substitute goldfish, my partner had managed to hold onto this memento of my day as well.

"I'm sure you'll find a suitable spot for it, _dear_," I retorted in a falsetto voice as I playfully shoved his shoulder and he glared back at me in that adorable, mock-affronted way.

"How about over the bed?" he asked as I snorted derisively.

"I think not," I told him. "Looking at your rendition of Mr. Potato Head would definitely destroy the mood." I shook my head as I walked over and took the controversial drawing away from him, placing it down on my computer table. "I'll take out the trash later."

"You will NOT!" he told me firmly. "At least not THAT trash; well, you know what I mean. I'm going to have it framed."

"Shit, Justin! You think I want everyone who comes in here seeing that… That _thing_? You think I _want_ everyone knowing I stepped in a fucking ice cream cone and had sheep shit all over me?"

"Is THAT what THAT is?" he said with a sly grin. "I thought you'd been trying out a new cologne."

"Ha, ha, very funny," I told him as I slid my arms around his slender waist and he smiled up impishly at me. _Little fucker…_ "Well how about you help me take this _new cologne_ off?" I asked as I turned and began to tug him toward the shower.

I felt no real resistance as I heard him say behind me, "Well, they say charity _does_ begin at home…"

_The Next Afternoon_

I heard the heavy metal door to the loft swinging open and smiled, knowing it was soon going to be play time again.

"Brian? Where are you?"

"Where else, Sunshine? In the bedroom… Come and join me," I intoned huskily, my pulse speeding up as I lay there on my back unclothed, stroking my cock languidly as I gazed up at the ceiling and impatiently waited for my 'playmate' to appear. A few seconds later, I lifted my head to see him standing there, subconsciously licking his lips at the site of me pleasuring myself. "I'm glad you could join me," I told him as I raised my upper body up by my elbows and gazed over at him. He was wearing one of my favorite shirts of his that set his pale skin off to perfection – it was a dark, sleeveless tunic that tightly clung to his trim chest, exposing the hardness of his nipples underneath, and he had matched it with a pair of dark-blue, tight-fitting jeans. My cock didn't need any more self-assistance as I took a few moments to admire the way his jeans molded to his slender body, being tremendously grateful that for once Justin wasn't wearing one of his pairs of hideously baggy chinos. "Come over here," I softly invited him as he smiled agreeably and began to pull his shirt off; he quickly snapped the top button of his fly open as I watched him pull the zipper down and remove both his jeans and briefs in one, fluid motion, stepping out of sneakers and bending over to pull off his socks. He scampered over to the end of the bed eagerly and slowly crawled up my body; I moaned at the sensation of his cock slowly brushing up my body as he began to rain kisses on my lower legs, my thighs, and my belly, taunting me by deliberately overlooking my leaking member.

"Justin…" My voice came close to sounding desperate as he began to feather butterfly kisses all around my belly button before he stuck his tongue inside and swirled it around for good measure, right where I was the most ticklish and sensitive, his hands beginning to lightly caress my hips and sides of my waist as he performed this sort of gyrating, frog-legged motion across my crotch that was making me go crazy with need. I reached down urgently and grabbed the top of his blond head, pulling it up so he was forced to look into my darkened, dilated eyes. "Stop it, Mr. Taylor, or this show will be over before it starts."

He grinned evilly back at me, but thankfully proceeded to crawl further up my body until he draped himself over my larger frame like an intriguing, warm, soft blanket, his smaller legs nestled perfectly inside mine. He placed his hands on my shoulders and leaned down to give me a slow, wet kiss, just the type I adored; of course, I loved _all_ of Justin's kisses – so sweet and passionate at the same time and always tinged with the emotion that emanated between us. "You called?" he quipped softly as we broke off our kiss at last.

I snorted. "Damn straight I did," I growled as he stared down at me smugly. "You've been awfully impertinent this week, Mr. Taylor; I'll have to see that you're properly punished." He arched an eyebrow at me in response as I smiled back, wondering if perhaps we were going to continue where we had left off before; I had found I rather enjoyed smacking that perky little butt into compliance, and truth be told I don't think he had been complaining about it, either… But for the time being, I had something _else _I preferred to do.

"What'd you have in mind?" he asked as lay over me and brushed some rebellious hair away from my eyes.

I grinned broadly. "Roll over on your back and I'll give you a clue."

He looked at me, a little surprised, no doubt thinking I wasn't going to be able to carry out my unspoken threat if I was asking him to lie down beside me on his back. There would be plenty of time for that afterward, though; first I was going to fuck the daylights out of the little shit.

I gave him a gentle nudge to persuade my 'blanket' to undrape himself; he eyed me a little suspiciously for a moment before he finally rolled off my body and onto the bed beside me. A second or two later, I heard him laugh as he noticed the newest addition to our bedroom: a large, multi-faceted mirror installed directly overhead, providing us with a panoramic shot of the kind-sized bed and two horny as hell, red-blooded gay males in totally-naked, living Technicolor, both of our cocks hard and raring to go again.

We mutually admired ourselves above, all four copies of us, as I leaned over to whisper huskily in his ear, "Ready to go for another _thrilling_ ride?"

"Don't you mean _thrill ride_?" he asked me as I shook my head.

"No… Definitely _Thrilling_." And as I leaped on top of his body and pinned his slender hands above his head, I proceeded to show him just how thrilling it was.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Hope you enjoyed their 'ride' - thanks for reading!:)_


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